


Changing of the Seasons

by AppleSeeds



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is a Mess (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Botanist Crowley, Caring Crowley (Good Omens), Fluff, Human AU, Lonely Aziraphale (Good Omens), Love in the Time of Covid-19, M/M, Nature, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Pining, Pining Aziraphale (Good Omens), Plants, Quarantine, Slow Burn, St James's Park (Good Omens), They meet on Zoom, foraging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 47,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26304256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleSeeds/pseuds/AppleSeeds
Summary: Confined to his bookshop, Aziraphale joins a virtual training session about urban foraging led by botanist and natural wellbeing practitioner Anthony Crowley, and feels some relief from his anxiety for the first time since lockdown began. After that, he watches every video Crowley has posted online, but will he ever get up the courage to actually interact with him? After all, Crowley keeps giving him opportunities to do so...Perhaps once the lockdown is over, some one-to-one nature-based relaxation therapy might be just what Aziraphale needs?
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 530
Kudos: 399





	1. Introduction to urban foraging

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe it's a bit late to write quarantine stuff but I still haven't left the house for six months so I'm doing it anyway! 
> 
> Note that Aziraphale is extremely anxious about the pandemic (amongst other things) in this fic.

**_An introduction to urban foraging – Friday 17 th April 2020, 19:00BST_ **

_Join botanist and natural wellbeing practitioner Anthony Crowley for a short introduction to urban foraging in the UK. Add a new dimension to your daily walks by learning how to identify plants in your local area, including wild edibles you can harvest to add interest to your meals._

_This free session will be delivered via Zoom. Enter your email address below to receive joining instructions._

Aziraphale had read the advert at least eight times. He wasn’t sure why he was hesitating, the session was _free_ after all. That had to be his first consideration; the bookshop had been closed for nearly a month now since the lockdown began, and online sales had been slow. Aziraphale hadn’t left the shop and his flat above it at all, overwhelmed with anxiety about the situation. Yes, everyone was being advised to go out once a day for some exercise, and one could even say _fresh air_ now, the London roads for once almost empty, but every time Aziraphale reached out to open the door to step outside, his hands started trembling and his breathing came in short, sharp gasps. Each time, he would stumble backwards as though retreating from an attacker, and after a few days, he had decided it would be better for his overall wellbeing to just stop trying.

After two weeks stuck in his flat he had begun to have second thoughts about his decision. He had walked laps around the bookshop in an attempt to avoid becoming completely sedentary, which left him feeling dizzy and much like a caged animal. He had started to regret not moving out of London sooner; it was something he had been thinking about for quite some time. He had often dreamed of a having a lovely, quiet, peaceful little cottage in the countryside, in the South Downs perhaps. If he lived in the countryside, at least he would have been safely able to sit out in his garden. The weather had been so uncharacteristically sunny for April in the UK, tormenting him like a delicious cake just out of reach.

He really should just go outside. He could walk through Mayfair down to St James’s Park, take some oats for the ducks... _But that’s what everyone will be doing_. What if people came too close? There were reports every day of the police breaking up gatherings in the parks. He couldn’t risk it.

Aziraphale had seen the advert for the urban foraging session when he’d logged on to his computer to check if he had made any online sales since yesterday (he hadn’t). He wanted to attend. Even if he didn’t have the courage to go outside now, he could learn some useful information for next year, when he prayed this would all be over and life would be back to normal. Aziraphale enjoyed spending time outdoors trying his best to connect with nature in the city, finding it one of the most effective strategies to calm his anxiety, and he loved cooking, so this course would be perfect for him. And it was free, he reminded himself yet again.

So why was he so hesitant? He often shied away from activities and events where he would need to interact with other people, struggling to make conversation and generally feeling uncomfortable the whole time. It was generally easier just to be content with his own company. But surely attending something _online_ actually solved that problem? Perhaps this was little more than fear of the unknown. The lockdown had afforded Aziraphale too much time alone with his thoughts than could be good for his health, and the way his anxiety had limited what he had done with his life was really starting to bother him. Being able to go nowhere certainly provided enough inducement for his brain to think of all the places he could have gone and all the things he could have done when he’d had the chance, and who knew how long this would go on for? Trying to protect himself from his anxiety had just ended up hurting him in other ways.

“It’s possible to feel something without acting on it,” he said aloud to himself, words from one of many long-forgotten self-help books that had found their way into his hands. “Just because I’m anxious, that doesn’t mean I have to behave in accordance with it.”

Aziraphale registered for the urban foraging session, letting out a shuddering breath and rubbing his chest to try to distract himself from the sensation of his pounding heart. He rose from his desk and headed to the kitchen to fill the kettle, his fingers trembling.

* * *

_“Connect with video?”_ Zoom prompted.

“Oh, absolutely not,” Aziraphale said aloud, connecting to the session. Perhaps this would be fine. He was actually rather looking forward to it: a chance to learn something new with the advantage of being invisible. Microphone muted, video off, it would be just like watching television. He took a deep breath and actually found himself smiling as he waited in the virtual waiting room. He smoothed his hand over the brand new notebook he had positioned to the side of the computer and started doodling leaves and flowers in the margin.

The white screen of the waiting room disappeared and was replaced with a grid of faces. Aziraphale’s eyes immediately flicked away from them down to the bottom left of the screen, to check for those two reassuring red diagonal lines across the icons for his microphone and camera. The muscles in his neck and shoulders relaxed when he was confirmed to be invisible in every possible way, and Aziraphale scanned his eyes across the faces on the screen. They were certainly a diverse bunch of people, but they all had one thing in common, they looked relaxed and ready to enjoy themselves, many with a glass of wine or a cup of tea in hand.

“Hi guys, we’ll get started in a minute, I’m just letting more people in from the waiting room.”

Aziraphale’s eyes then moved to the top left, to the small image amongst the grid that was labelled _Anthony Crowley_.

Without hesitation, Aziraphale switched to Speaker View, enlarging Anthony’s image on the screen. Anthony’s eyes were moving around the screen as he worked, but when they flicked up to look directly into the camera for a second, Aziraphale’s stomach did somersaults.

“He can’t see you,” he chided himself for his unwarranted physical reaction to the feeling of someone looking at him. Apparently a month of total isolation had made that particular reaction even worse than normal.

It took a moment to fully settle into the realisation that he couldn’t be seen or heard, but when he did, Aziraphale decided to let himself actually look at Anthony. Anthony was sat at a desk surrounded by vases full of different plant specimens, botanical identification books and jars of dried leaves and flowers. Thinking about this, Aziraphale realised that despite his intentions, he wasn’t looking at Anthony at all, he was looking _around_ him. _Oh, why is this so hard?_

With a deep breath and a roll of his shoulders, Aziraphale refocused his eyes onto the centre of his computer screen. His eyes widened. Good Lord, the man was _stunning_. He had long red hair falling in curls around his face, but he’d haphazardly captured some of them in a messy bun at the back. He had deep brown eyes that Aziraphale could only bring himself to look into for a few moments before he felt overwhelmed, and over his slender torso he was wearing a tight-fitting black T-shirt emblazoned with his company logo, _Eden’s Treasures_. Aziraphale’s mouth had become dry and he licked his lips, smiling at the image before him for a moment before he felt too guilty and looked slightly to the side, examining the collection of plant specimens once again.

“Right, I think that’s everyone, sorry to keep you waiting! I know some of you know me already, but for those of you who are new, my name’s Anthony Crowley but please call me Crowley, I run Eden’s Treasures, I’m normally out and about delivering outdoor foraging and natural wellbeing courses in London, but obviously I’m not able to do that at the moment, so I’m going to be doing some more stuff online. It’s so lovely to see all of you here, please do put your camera on if you’ve got one, I’ve got to be honest I’m really missing running my courses and at least if I can see your faces it makes me feel less like I’m just sat in my kitchen alone on a Friday evening talking to myself!”

Crowley grinned and Aziraphale clicked back on to Gallery View. Crowley’s face filling the screen and smiling like that was too much for him to handle. Aziraphale could see all of the other people smiling and laughing. _19 participants and 1 non-video participant_ was displayed at the top of the screen. Aziraphale’s stomach sank as he left his camera off in direct violation of Crowley’s request. He had never been good at not doing what was asked of him, but the thought of putting his camera on was worse.

“This session is all about foraging for wild edibles in urban areas in early spring; it’s a really good time of year to get into foraging there’s loads of good stuff about. And we’re all in the same boat now, we’ve realised we can’t eat all the toilet paper we stockpiled and we’ve got cupboards full of pasta and tinned tomatoes and nothing to go with ‘em, but hopefully this session might help to solve that problem!”

People laughed again and took sips from wine glasses and mugs decorated with all sorts of different patterns. Aziraphale picked up his own mug, adorned with angel wings and filled with hot cocoa.

“Let me see where you’re all from, type it into the chat for me, it’ll help me make this as relevant as I can for you.”

Aziraphale had to fight his instinct to avoid giving up personal information. He lived in Soho, along with thousands of other people, besides, what nefarious deeds could anyone possibly do with that information? Aziraphale could get away with not putting his camera on, after all, maybe he didn’t have one, but there was no reasonable way to avoid responding to this request. Aziraphale opened the chat window, and saw the answers from the other participants flooding in.

“Oh, wow, someone from the USA! Well, you will get some of the same plants out there but you need to be careful, make sure you’ve got a good guide book because there might be similar species in North America that I’m not aware of. Hopefully you’ll get something out of the session today though, or maybe you’re just here because you like listening to me rambling on?” he chuckled. “You must forgive me, as some of you know already, I do love the sound of my own voice.”

_I like the sound of your voice too_ , Aziraphale thought as he forced himself to type _Soho, London_ into the chat and then hesitated for one final second before pressing enter.

“Aziraphale... that’s an interesting name. You’re right by me! I’m in Mayfair, got all of these specimens from Hyde Park and St James’s. Maybe I’ll see you out there sometime, you’d better not go taking all the best stuff before I have chance to get to it though! I’ll have to look out for you...” Crowley’s eyes darted around the screen and then he furrowed his brow. “Oh, you don’t have your camera on? All the better to secretly plunder my private foraging spots, I suppose? I’d better be careful how much I give away!”

_He’s talking to me. Oh God, he’s talking to me._

Other people were laughing. Their microphones were muted but that made it more intimidating somehow, all of these strange faces contorted with silent mirth that was directed at _him_. Aziraphale’s cursor hovered over “Leave meeting”. If he disappeared, even if anyone noticed, maybe they would just assume he’d had connection problems?

But Aziraphale didn’t want to leave, and if he didn’t respond, Crowley would surely just leave him alone and move on to someone else... which he did. He started talking to a Scottish couple about the difference they could expect in harvesting dates up north compared to what he would be talking about based on his experience in London.

Meanwhile, another message popped up in Aziraphale’s chat window.

**Anthony Crowley to Aziraphale Fell [Private]: I’m kidding, if you want to know exactly where I got stuff just let me know.**

Aziraphale’s heart was beating uncomfortably fast, and he looked around the room, reminding himself that was safe, he was alone in his bookshop, just as he had been for the past month, and there was nothing to be anxious about. Crowley was just being _nice_ , and really, after a month, he _should_ be grateful for the interaction.

**Aziraphale Fell to Anthony Crowley [Private]: It’s all right. Thank you, though.**

Crowley’s eyes flicked to the side of his screen and he pouted for a second, almost imperceptibly, before carrying on. Crowley encouraged people to ask questions at any point throughout the session, but Aziraphale prayed that there would be no further _expectation_ of interaction.

As the session went on, Aziraphale actually started to feel more and more relaxed, and even switched back to the Speaker View, allowing Crowley’s beautiful face to take up more of his screen. Crowley’s voice was extremely soothing, and he spoke so enthusiastically about the plants he was showing that for that brief time, Aziraphale actually forgot about everything that was going on in the world as he frantically scribbled notes into his notebook, desperately trying to keep up and capture everything Crowley was saying.

Crowley showed specimens of cleavers (which he stuck to his T shirt across his collarbone to illustrate the origin of their nickname “sticky weed”), spruce, with its bright green tips (full of vitamins C and K), wild garlic, hops and chickweed. He also talked about nettles, but didn’t have any specimens, telling the participants that if they couldn’t recognise stinging nettles they really shouldn’t be trying to work up to foraging for anything else just yet. Crowley ate some elm seeds raw on camera, including their papery cases, to reassure everyone they tasted pretty good, and made himself a cup of pine needle tea with the new season’s fresh growth.

Crowley was so extremely knowledgeable and passionate that it took Aziraphale’s breath away. He was so glad he’d signed up for the session (and not left right at the beginning). _It’s fine to know what you like and like what you know, but remember that everything you like was once something unknown_ , he recalled from another vaguely remembered source. Crowley’s enthusiastic ramble seemed to have come to an end, so Aziraphale put down his notebook and pen with a satisfied sigh and smiled widely at the screen. He almost wished Crowley could see how happy he’d made him.

“I know that was a very quick whistle-stop tour, do let me know if you have any other questions. There are some other videos on my YouTube channel as well if you want to see more, and I did this for free today so this is the bit where you have to let me shamelessly promote myself, ok?” Crowley laughed. Aziraphale chuckled to himself too. “You can sign up for my Patreon, there’s different levels of membership to get access to different things like other videos from different seasons and live sessions, identification resources, recipes, all the nature wellbeing stuff and I’ll be doing virtual one-to-one Q&A sessions as well, so yeah... have a look, hopefully some of you will be interested, but either way, thank you for coming today and giving me a chance to talk to someone other than myself about plants! Well, aside from talking to the plants themselves, of course! I’m out of time, so I’ll let you all go, thank you all again for coming!”

Most people activated their microphones to say thank you, and made little hand symbols appear next to them that looked like an icon for clapping, but Aziraphale wasn’t sure how to do that. The number of participants started dropping rapidly, down from 20 to 14 already and still falling. Aziraphale desperately wanted to thank Crowley. He hadn’t felt so relaxed and pleasantly engaged in something since well before the lockdown started, and he couldn’t wait to have the opportunity to put what he’d learnt into practice. Aziraphale hovered the cursor over the microphone symbol. He could just press it, say thank you, then press _End meeting_ really quickly. 8 participants... 7...

No, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He clicked back into the chat window instead.

**Aziraphale Fell to Anthony Crowley [Private]: Thank you so much. That was absolutely brilliant and just what I needed to take my mind off everything. I definitely intend to start foraging now. I really am very grateful.**

He pressed enter and then moved his cursor to _End meeting_ , taking a deep breath before clicking on it.

“Oh, Aziraphale, that’s so lovely, thank y--,” Aziraphale heard as the screen went blank.


	2. Relax with me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale searches for Eden's Treasures on YouTube

After closing Zoom, Aziraphale immediately experienced intense anxiety stemming from cutting Crowley off while he’d been talking to him. He got up and walked away from the computer, breathing deeply ( _the part of your brain that monitors your breathing rate doesn’t realise you can consciously override it, therefore when you breathe slowly and deeply, it reports this to the rest of your body, causing you to calm down,_ he recalled) and returning to the habit of pacing around in circles.

The rapid heartbeat and trembling were rather par for the course, but Aziraphale struggled to cope with each new wave that seemed to erupt from somewhere deep in his stomach and flow upwards, spreading throughout his chest and intensifying the experience every time he remembered what he had done. He had been rude to Crowley, who had been so lovely to him. He had even offered to tell him where his foraging spots were, why had he turned him down?

Somehow the anxiety wasn’t as bad as the regret that burned itself into his throat, his chest and his gut. He squeezed his eyes tightly closed, an instinct to try to drive the source of the anguish from view, but it only served to force some of the moisture that had gathered there to trickle down his cheek before he aggressively brushed it away. He had felt so happy just moments ago.

_You shouldn’t have said anything. If you hadn’t said anything this wouldn’t have happened. You should know better by now._

The sardonic cruelty of the situation was that had Aziraphale said nothing, he would currently have felt just as anxious about being rude and unappreciative of Crowley sharing his expertise for free and for taking his mind off the _situation_.

Aziraphale chewed his gums and kept pacing, eventually finding himself in the kitchen and making another cup of cocoa, hoping it would help him to calm down. He should probably take a bath before bed as well, dump a whole bottle of lavender essential oil into his oil burner and then maybe just shove his face into it. He desperately wished he could go outside for a walk. It was getting dark, but that didn’t matter, he knew from experience that just being outside would have helped. Although, he did normally find being alone inside his shop and flat relaxing, but there was something about _knowing_ he couldn’t go out that made him feel confined and claustrophobic.

“You could leave. You could leave if you had to; you’re not trapped, everything’s fine.”

As the milk for the cocoa heated up, Aziraphale clasped his hands together and squeezed hard, then started running his palms up and down his arms. Tears were threatening again.

“You’re overreacting, this is ridiculous, he won’t have even noticed and he certainly won’t have cared.”

Aziraphale had, it seemed, two options. One, send an email to the address from which he’d received the joining instructions for the session and apologise for being rude, perhaps even ask a question about good spots to forage in St James’s Park... Or two, accept that there was no way that Crowley was the slightest bit bothered by Aziraphale’s departure from the session at that point, and find a way to deal with it.

Opting for option 2, Aziraphale forced his trembling fingers to behave enough to make the cup of cocoa without scalding himself with hot milk from the stove and then retreated to his sofa, curling his legs up underneath him and clutching his hands around the cocoa. The air was unseasonably warm, even at this hour in the evening, but there was something comforting about holding onto something warm.

After a short while, Aziraphale stood and went back to his desk to collect his laptop before falling back down onto the sofa, the laptop open beside him. He hadn’t checked the news for a few hours, and without thinking, his instincts directed him to do just that. But at the last moment he caught himself. He had read an article about _doom-scrolling_. This was a compulsion, and it wouldn’t make him feel better. So instead, he opened YouTube and typed _Eden’s Treasures_.

The first result was a channel with an icon matching the logo Aziraphale had seen earlier on Crowley’s T shirt. With a different sort of flutter in his chest, Aziraphale clicked on it, and found himself looking at a page full of videos, many of them featuring Crowley in the thumbnails.

“I’m so sorry I was rude to you,” Aziraphale murmured, touching his fingertip to one of the thumbnails briefly before closing his eyes and shaking his head at himself. He started scrolling through the videos, trying to choose where to start. They seemed to mostly be videos about urban foraging in each month, some about British wildlife, and others about identifying trees at different times of year. It didn’t really matter where he started, as Aziraphale knew he would end up watching all of them sooner or later. One of the videos was different though, and stood out to him.

**[POV] Relax in a woodland in springtime with me talking to you about nature [43:26]**

“Oh...”

Aziraphale clicked on it, but immediately paused the video as soon as it had loaded. He clutched his hands together again, this time under his chin, which he rested on them. He closed his eyes as if in prayer, that dizzying, trembling ache rising in his chest once again.

“There’s _no one here_. There has been no one here for a _month_. What is wrong with you? You’re alone, and you’re safe, there is literally no danger here so why the f--- oh...” he let out a long sigh and closed the lid of his laptop. At least he hadn’t checked for an update on the R rate of the virus; that was progress, right?

Aziraphale left the laptop on the sofa and headed for the bathroom to start the bath running. He didn’t use quite the entire bottle of lavender essential oil in the oil burner but he certainly didn’t skimp on it. He poured a generous quantity of bubble bath under the tap and swooshed it around as best he could without getting his sleeves wet before retreating back to the sofa to down the rest of his cocoa and collect the laptop. He would watch something less... Less _what_? Intimate? He shivered and clutched the laptop to his chest as he made his way back to the bathroom.

Aziraphale sat cross-legged on the bathroom floor with his laptop in front of him, as far away from the bath tub as the small room would allow, just in case the steam could do any damage to his computer. He clicked on a video about foraging in autumn (because it also mentioned baking and that had been one of his few sources of comfort during the lockdown) and pointed the screen so he would be able to look at it if he wanted to while soaking in the tub. He lit candles and turned off the light before he stripped off and stepped into the scalding water. He should have known better, the heat only made his heart race more, but there was something comforting about feeling his heart beating hard for a reason besides anxiety.

Aziraphale laid his head on the side of the tub and looked at the screen of his laptop. Crowley was walking along a hedgerow, the golds and yellows of autumn just beginning to assert themselves around him. Every now and then he would stop by a particular plant and show something to the camera, explaining what he’d found. He had a basket made from woven willow hooked over his arm, and by the end of his walk along the hedgerow, he had deposited elderberries, hazelnuts, blackberries and crab apples into it.

Aziraphale’s neck started to ache, so he shifted position, lying on his front in the tub with his knees bent and his calves and feet above the water’s surface. He folded his arms across the end of the tub and leaned his chin on them, watching as Crowley, now in his kitchen, began preparing his foraged ingredients. Aziraphale felt much of the tension leave his body as he watched Crowley working in his kitchen, mixing together ingredients for a hazelnut crumble, which he spread on top of his apples, blackberries and elderberries in a blue stoneware oven dish. There was something so extremely therapeutic about this man, and Aziraphale raised his hand to rub at his cheeks, which were aching from smiling so much at the screen.

The video ended with Crowley extracting his crumble from the oven, serving himself a generous portion, which he proceeded to cover with double cream (it looked absolutely scrumptious) before tasting it and advising everyone to get out there and make the most of the autumn and create their own.

“I hope I’ll be able to go outside by the autumn,” Aziraphale mumbled to himself, before rolling over and rising from the bath, prompted by the video ending. Without the distraction, there was too much risk of unwanted thoughts invading his mind, and he’d finally got to a place where he felt relaxed again and perhaps even able to fall asleep.

Aziraphale dried off and put on his soft tartan pyjamas before crawling into bed with his laptop. The book on his bedside table, which he normally tried to read until he felt tired enough to sleep without too many thoughts vying to keep him awake, remained untouched as he opened the lid of the laptop once more and positioned it next to his pillow. He rolled onto his side so he was facing the screen, and damn it all, he clicked on the video he’d wanted to watch earlier - **[POV] Relax in a woodland in springtime with me talking to you about nature [43:26]**.

“It’s not far now,” Crowley was saying over the sound of two sets of footsteps hitting the woodland floor, the shuffling of clothing and branches being pushed aside. Birds were singing fervently in the trees, and there was a distant sound of running water. “I know a perfect place, it’s so peaceful. It’s just down here.”

The filming was being done by someone walking just behind Crowley (Aziraphale understood the purpose was to pretend that person wasn’t there and was in fact himself, and he tried his hardest to do just that). Crowley was wearing dark grey cargo trousers and a black fleece jacket that looked so incredibly soft that Aziraphale had to stop himself from instinctively reaching out to touch the screen. Crowley’s hair was similar to how it had been for the foraging course, partly tied up in a bun but with curls still falling down almost to his shoulders.

Crowley scooted past the spiny leaves of a young holly tree and began making his way down a slope, the sound of the water getting louder. Crowley stepped to the side of the frame, revealing a stream trickling over partially submerged rocks and logs. Crowley crouched down and spread out a blanket that he’d been carrying, settling himself comfortably on it beside the stream. The camera operator sat beside him.

_No, it’s me,_ I’m _sitting beside him._

Crowley closed his eyes and took a deep breath, casting his eyes over the scene in front of him. He then turned to the camera. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I knew you’d love it here.”

Aziraphale’s heart started beating harder for a reason much more preferable than submerging himself in hot bath water.

“The leaves are really starting to fill out now, aren’t they? Except for the ash,” he pointed up at one of the trees, the camera following, “but that won’t be long now either.”

Aziraphale shuffled his head to the edge of his pillow, closer to the screen. Crowley stopped talking for a moment, so Aziraphale closed his eyes and focused on the sounds of the birds singing and the babbling stream. There was nothing else, no invasive thoughts and fears, there was just himself and Crowley, sat on a blanket beside a stream in springtime, listening to the sounds of the woodland.

“Oh, look! A dipper!” Crowley announced softly but with excitement in his voice. Aziraphale opened his eyes as the camera panned around to reveal a striking chocolate brown bird with a white front standing in the shallow water. “Do you see it keeps putting its head into the water? It’s catching small fish and invertebrates.”

There was something about the way Crowley said _invertebrates_ that melted Aziraphale’s insides, which he really couldn’t explain, but didn’t find objectionable.

“Did you see the butterfly?” _No, I was looking at you._ “Yeah? It’s a speckled wood, you get a lot of them in places like this where it’s partly shaded but the sun still gets through. The sun feels good today, doesn’t it? It’s starting to get much warmer now.” Crowley unzipped his fleece jacket and pulled his arms free of it, discarding it somewhere to his side out of view of the camera. The fleece may have looked like it would be soft to touch, but the view of Crowley without it, once again in a form-fitting black T shirt but this time minus the logo, was much more enticing. Aziraphale reached out a fingertip to stroke Crowley’s forearm on the screen.

“Listen to the birds. You should be able to make out some of their calls. Do you hear that very loud call, with the trill at the end? That’s a wren, one of the smallest birds in Britain, but it has the loudest call relative to its size. And do you hear the one that sounds like someone pushing a squeaky wheelbarrow? That’s a goldcrest.”

Aziraphale couldn’t distinguish the different bird songs, but he was thoroughly enjoying listening to Crowley talk about them, his voice low and soft.

“Do you want to just sit and relax for a while? Maybe lie back and look up at the trees?” he murmured softly, leaning a little closer to the camera. Aziraphale found himself nodding and rolled onto his back, closing his eyes and picturing a canopy of trees above him, partially obscuring the blue sky beyond.

“That’s it, just relax. Everything’s going to be ok, and you can come here anytime you like, anytime you need to get away from it all.”

Ten minutes later, Aziraphale had fallen asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel more relaxed already! ;-) Thank you so much for reading, I really appreciate it!


	3. Patreon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is very tempted by Crowley's Patreon... but can he justify spending the money while business is so slow?

_Dear Crowley,_

_I hope you don’t mind me getting in touch, but I just wanted to write to express my sincere thanks once again for your urban foraging session yesterday, and also for recommending your other videos on YouTube. I have already watched several of them and have found them all to be extremely informative and_

Aziraphale stared at the screen, deleted the beginnings of the message and closed down his email completely.

“Ridiculous.”

When Aziraphale had woken up that morning, he had felt more content and relaxed than he had in a very long time, the after effects of that oh-so-elusive entity known as a good night’s sleep. He’d had a bit of a surprise when he had stretched upon waking and his wrist had abruptly collided with his laptop, but the sharp pain had been quickly ignored when he remembered why his laptop was there.

He had fallen asleep before the end of the video, so, over breakfast, the laptop positioned opposite him at his small, round, kitchen table, Aziraphale watched the rest of it. After relaxing quietly for about twenty minutes, Crowley had pointed out some more of the different bird songs and a few of the ground plants that were growing around the blanket, before standing and walking back up the slope and out of the woodland, with a reminder that Aziraphale could return there at any time, which he had every intention of doing.

Aziraphale was beaming when the video finished, and clicked back onto the Eden’s Treasures channel homepage to search for any similar videos, but he couldn’t find any. He clicked back into the video and read the description.

_Sit beside me on a blanket beside a stream in a springtime woodland and relax to the sound of birds singing and running water. I’ll even try to teach you to identify some bird songs! This is one of a series of POV nature wellbeing videos, if you’d like to see more, please check out my Patreon._

Aziraphale remembered Crowley mentioning Patreon at the end of the foraging session, during his very brief ‘ _shameless self-promotion’_. That meant it would cost money, and spending money on anything but the absolute bare essentials right now would have very negative consequences for Aziraphale’s anxiety. Ironic, given he would be spending money on something intended to help him relax.

Aziraphale sighed, scooping up the laptop and carrying it back over to the sofa. He curled himself up into a comfortable position, pulled a blanket over himself (the unseasonable warmth had apparently come to an end) and clicked on another one of the videos. This one was about identifying butterflies, and Aziraphale was delighted to see the wide range of species Crowley was able to find in London’s parks, which he himself had never noticed.

“Maybe I’ll be able to go outside by summer...” he sighed. “Maybe.”

In the evening, Aziraphale logged into his online ordering system to see if any orders had been placed for books. He was shocked to see that in fact they had, and not just one or two, but he had _five_ new orders to fulfil. He busied himself finding all the books that had been ordered and boxing them up, adding a hand-written thank you card to each box before sealing them up and writing the addresses on them with a smile.

On Sunday morning, when he checked his email (something he generally only did once a day), the cause of the surge in orders was made apparent. Apparently a journalist had written an article about the need to support independent booksellers who had been forced to close in the lockdown, and had produced a map of the whole country with independent booksellers marked on it, with links to their websites. The email was to let him know that his shop had been included, and wished him well with his business during these _challenging times_.

Aziraphale had indeed noticed that the addresses on the boxes all belonged to people living in central London, apparently choosing to support a local business. Of course, Aziraphale never ventured out to the Post Office himself when he received online orders. Before the lockdown began, a bright and enthusiastic teenager called Adam had been due to start work experience in Aziraphale’s shop. Aziraphale had never hosted a work experience placement before, but Adam had specifically asked to work with him, having been coming to the shop with his parents ever since he was a young boy. His tastes in reading had evolved over the years, and he was now particularly fascinated by the occult and conspiracy theories. His parents did seem mildly concerned, but they didn’t do anything to stop him, probably assuming it would be another phase he would grow out of.

Adam’s teacher had apparently encouraged them to use their initiative and see if they could gain any useful ‘work experience’ despite the lockdown, and some of his classmates were busy creating online content for various businesses in London. Adam had set up Aziraphale’s website and offered to pick up any books that needed delivering and to take them to the Post Office, and not just for the week he was originally scheduled for work experience, but for as long as Aziraphale needed. He really was a lovely lad. It was ‘against the rules’ to pay a student while they were on work experience, but when Adam let himself in with Aziraphale’s spare key (wearing a mask even though Aziraphale would be hiding in his flat for the next three hours because he’d read that was how long the virus could survive in the air outside a host), he always found a big tin full of baked goods to take home to his family on top of the box for delivery.

Aziraphale called Adam and they arranged for him to pick up the boxes on Monday morning, by which time, as it turned out, there would be even more. By Sunday evening, another six orders had been placed. It felt as though God was smiling on him, and he was feeling extremely tempted...

Aziraphale curled up on the sofa again and watched Crowley explain what to look out for to identify trees in winter using just the bark and the new buds forming on the twigs, then took a deep breath and clicked on the link in the description to Crowley’s Patreon.

_What if these sales don’t keep up? The article was just published yesterday, people will have forgotten about it in a week and they’ll be back to getting everything from Amazon. I really can’t afford to be spending money on something frivolous right now._

Aziraphale scrunched his eyes closed and tried hard to ignore that voice in his mind, skipping over the information about what Crowley’s patrons had access to and checking the terms and conditions. Apparently he could cancel this at any time, so he could just have it for a month and then if sales had slowed up again he could cancel it then... he’d just made more money in two days than he had in the previous two weeks, so he _deserved_ to treat himself, right?

He could always watch everything Crowley had ever created over the next thirty days and burn it all into his mind to remember forever.

So he threw caution to the wind, and without even reading what set apart the different levels of membership, he signed up for _Golden Oak_ , the most expensive one (after _Copper Beech_ and _Silver Birch_ ), because the world right now could just go f...

The phone rang. It was Adam.

“Hey, just thinking, you said there were quite a few orders, right? Will I need my dad to bring me in the car?”

“Oh! Oh, yes, I’m afraid you will! I’m so sorry, I didn’t think of that.” Aziraphale anxiously clasped his hands together.

“No probs, Zi. See ya tomorrow. Well... you know. Bye.”

“Goodbye, Adam.”

Aziraphale looked back at his laptop screen, which was displaying a payment confirmation.

“Oh, what have I done?”

A message on the screen directed him to check his email, and when he did, he found an automatically generated message thanking him for becoming a patron, with information about everything he would now have access to and the upload schedule for new content. Aziraphale decided not to read it in detail for now, scrolling until he found the heading _Nature Wellbeing_ and clicking on it, before carrying his laptop up to bed with him once again. But today, it was only 8pm.

As before, he positioned the laptop to the side of his pillow and lay down on his side.

**[POV] Come coastal foraging then relax with me on the beach [41:47]**

The first sound Aziraphale heard was of the waves gently lapping against the shore. A seagull squawked overhead. Once again the camera operator was behind Crowley, who was walking barefoot across the sand, his willow basket clasped loosely in his hand and swinging at his side. He was wearing shorts with his black T shirt this time, and Aziraphale’s eyes drifted down to his slender, muscular legs for a moment, but it seemed improper, so he focused instead on the back of Crowley’s head.

“It’s so peaceful here. It’s like a secret paradise,” Crowley said, turning to face the camera for a moment. The camera panned around, revealing a small beach enclosed by cliffs, and not another soul in sight. A flock of dark-coloured birds was bobbing up and down on the water, but as Crowley got closer they took off into the distance.

“We’re going to head over to the cliffs, there’s plenty of edible seaweed growing amongst the rocks.” Fully immersing himself in the experience, Aziraphale followed Crowley over to the rocks. “Be careful, it can get a bit slippery,” Crowley cautioned with a smile, reaching his hand out behind him towards the camera. “Let me help you.”

Aziraphale reached out his hand and pressed his fingertips to his palm.

“Let’s start with bladderwrack, it’s one of the easiest to recognise. There’s a good clump of it over here.”

Aziraphale found himself once again sinking into his bed, relaxing muscles whose default state was tension. His breathing slowed to a gentle rhythm as Crowley methodically worked his way through the cluster of seaweed growing over the rock, moving his hands through it and examining it, snipping off small pieces with a pair of scissors and placing them in his basket. It was hypnotic, and Aziraphale was in a trance. Amongst the many self-help books he had been acquainted with, he had, of course, read several on mindfulness, but it was something he had always struggled to achieve. No matter what he was doing, other thoughts always invaded his mind. But now, watching something so simple, he was completely enraptured and his mind had fallen silent.

After Crowley had harvested enough bladderwrack, they moved further along the cliffs towards the sea, and he added dulse and gutweed (“it tastes better than it sounds,” Crowley had promised with a chuckle) to his basket and then suggested they head down to the water and sit for a while to watch the tide come in.

There was no blanket this time, Crowley sitting straight down on the sand and stretching his legs out in front of him. He turned to Aziraphale.

“There’s something magical about the ocean, isn’t there? They say human civilisation grew up around the coast, I suppose there’s some connection to it deep within us. Take a deep breath and listen to the waves. Try to bring your breathing into rhythm with them.”

Aziraphale followed Crowley’s instruction, and managed to slow his breathing even more.

“Thank you for being here with me. We can stay here for as long as you like. There is nothing you need to think about just now, just focus on the waves and the sound of my voice.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes and rolled on to his back. The sound of the waves got gradually louder as the tide came in. He opened his eyes when he heard Crowley laughing softly.

“On second thoughts, perhaps we ought to be going.”

The next wave crashed against the shore and covered Crowley’s ankles. He elegantly rose from the ground and once again held his hand out towards Aziraphale, who this time brought both of his hands together to mimic the contact before the view changed to indicate he was now standing.

“Let’s head back, but we can come back here any time you like. Remember this is a secret paradise, it’s just for you and me.”

_And whomever’s operating the camera_ , Aziraphale thought cynically before shaking it off. He kept his hands clasped loosely together as they walked, imagining that Crowley hadn’t released his hand after helping him to stand.

When the video ended, Aziraphale immediately clicked on another one.

**[POV] Relax beside a campfire listening to me telling stories [47:32]**

This time, Crowley was wrapped up warm and had a burgundy woollen scarf around his neck. He was holding a stick out over a campfire, toasting a marshmallow. A stick with a marshmallow attached also seemed to emerge from the camera. Aziraphale licked his lips; he hadn’t had a toasted marshmallow since he was a child.

After listening to a couple of Crowley’s silly spooky stories, Aziraphale reached out towards the laptop to click on the information for the video. It had been posted last October, apparently for Halloween. Aziraphale smiled and wondered if Crowley was generally a fan of spooky things. He closed his eyes and continued listening, until Crowley abruptly stopped talking and the sound of the crackling campfire was joined by the sound of raindrops hitting the ground, accompanied by periodic hisses when the raindrops struck the flames. Crowley turned to the camera and laughed.

“You’d better get inside the tent; I’ll sort the fire out.”

Aziraphale (trying so hard to hold on to the illusion) stood up and turned around, revealing a tent behind him. He approached it, unzipped it and stepped inside. There were two sleeping bags laid out on the ground. Aziraphale sat down on one of them.

Moments later, Crowley entered the tent and zipped it closed behind him. His hair was soaking wet, and he rummaged around in a bag, withdrawing a towel and using it to squeeze some of the moisture from his curls.

“Well, this didn’t exactly go according to plan! It’s ok though, why don’t you lie down? We can relax in here. Listen to the sound of the rain on the canvas. It’s nice, right?”

Aziraphale nodded. Crowley pulled off his scarf and stripped off his wet jacket, settling himself on the other sleeping bag. He rolled onto his side, facing Aziraphale. “Are you warm enough?” A pause. Aziraphale didn’t respond. “Here,” Crowley said, draping a blanket over him. “Now, would you like to hear the end of the story?”

“Yes please.”

As Crowley picked up where he left off (how _did_ the creepy doll get into the car?), Aziraphale rolled onto his other side, his back to the laptop. He crossed his arms over his chest and rubbed his palm up and down his arm, eventually settling it on his shoulder. He rested his chin on the back of his hand and fell asleep like that, his arms wrapped around himself, imagining they were Crowley’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The burn is sloooooooooow in this one! I promise they will actually interact in the next chapter!
> 
> Thank you so much for your comments and kudos! <3


	4. Venturing outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An email from Crowley finally encourages Aziraphale to take a walk to St James's Park.

Three weeks had passed since Aziraphale had fallen asleep visualising himself in a tent with rain falling onto the canvas and Crowley’s arms wrapped around him. Since then, via his laptop, he had joined Crowley for a moonlit stroll along the beach, a walk through a field of sunflowers and some breathing exercises beneath a waterfall. They had sat on top of a hill together and taken in the vast scenery, lay beside a river and dangled their hands into the flowing water, and taken a canoe ride, with Crowley in front, out onto a lake, where they had passed a beautiful white swan on her nest.

Aziraphale still hadn’t left the house. The tartan face mask he had ordered to match his favourite bow tie sat beside the front door, persistently reminding him of reality, whereas Crowley’s videos did very well to make him forget it. Sometimes, when the anxiety had just been going on too long to be endured any further, his mind would latch onto another emotion and bring that to the fore, presumably just for a change of pace.

Who was operating the camera? Who was paddling in the back of the canoe? Why did they actually get to go to all of these beautiful places with Crowley? Had Crowley really not known it was going to rain when they were recording the campfire video? Why was the tent set up with two sleeping bags side-by-side?

_Who are they??_

This sensation wasn’t any better, particularly because it was so unjustified. Aziraphale had every reason to be anxious right now, but _jealous_? Preposterous. Even more preposterous was the warm glow that came from realising the change in the format of Crowley’s latest videos. The camera was now always stationary as if mounted on a tripod. So whoever _they_ were, they obviously didn’t live with Crowley, and weren’t getting to go anywhere with him now either.

It was definitely a new low. Aziraphale even rolled his eyes at himself. He glared at the mask by the front door. He had watched so many of Crowley’s videos now that he thought you could probably blindfold him and ask him to reach out and touch a tree and he’d be able to tell you what it was. He desperately wanted to go outside, and hated that after all this time he still felt trapped.

One morning when Aziraphale logged into his emails, he saw that he had received one from Crowley. At first, he experienced a pleasant jolt in his stomach, believing it to be another update for patrons to announce the release of new content. When he realised it wasn’t, the pleasant jolt transformed into an agonising lurch.

**Dear Aziraphale**

_Oh God, oh no, why is he writing just to me? What have I done?_ (Various thoughts went through Aziraphale’s mind at this point, everything from my payment has been declined to he has tracking software and knows that I’ve been watching all of his videos and taking them to bed with me and he’s going to tell me that I’m obsessed and it’s creepy and he doesn’t want me as a patron).

**I hope you’re keeping safe and well. Thank you for signing up as a Golden Oak patron, I really appreciate your support! I hope your foraging expeditions have been going well so far! I just wanted to check if there was anything you wanted to ask me? All of my Golden Oak patrons have access to one-to-one sessions via Zoom so I can give you tailored advice to support you on your foraging and natural wellbeing journey. Let me know when would be a good time for you.**

**Take care**

**Crowley**

_Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh absolutely not, no, no, no, no way. No. No!_

Aziraphale slammed the lid of his laptop closed and his face fell into his hands. It was better than being called out for being obsessed, but still... No. There was no way he could speak to Crowley. There was no point denying the enormous crush he had developed on the man, and he had to face it, he genuinely was obsessed. At first he’d told himself it was a healthy coping strategy for his anxiety, but more recently he’d started to doubt himself. If he actually left the house and put what he’d learnt into practice, then it absolutely would be healthy, but curling up every night imagining Crowley lying beside him? Not so much.

Aziraphale sighed heavily. He couldn’t. He couldn’t speak to Crowley. He just couldn’t. But he also couldn’t be rude, not again. He reluctantly re-opened the laptop.

**Dear Crowley**

**Thank you for your message. I hope you are well too. I have been finding your videos extremely informative. I don’t have any questions, but thank you for the offer.**

**Best wishes**

**Aziraphale**

Aziraphale hesitated for a few minutes, reading and re-reading the email several times. It had been through several edits, removing any reference to his own current state of wellbeing and toning down the praise. Eventually, with a shuddering breath, he pressed send, and got straight up to make a cup of tea. He heard the tone indicating he had received a new email while he was still in the kitchen. He abandoned the half-made cup of tea and rushed back to his laptop on the sofa.

**Dear Aziraphale**

**I’m very glad to hear you are enjoying my videos. Getting out and about in nature is a blessing in these difficult times! If you don’t have any questions, shall I downgrade your membership? Doesn’t seem right for you to be paying for something you’re not using!**

**Take care**

**Crowley**

_What?_

Aziraphale took the suggestion of having his membership downgraded as a personal insult, even though that made absolutely no sense whatsoever. He frantically navigated back to the webpage with the details of the different levels of membership on Patreon for Eden’s Treasures. Indeed, the only difference between _Silver Birch_ and _Golden Oak_ was access to one-to-one Q&A sessions. How had Aziraphale made it to his age without learning that you should always read things carefully before signing up for them?

_Oh, now what do I do?_ The familiar pounding in his chest and trembling in his fingers returned. He didn’t want Crowley to think he wasn’t interested enough to have any questions, and book sales were still going well, so he could afford it, and he _wanted_ to support Crowley. After all the relief Crowley’s videos had brought to him, he honestly deserved much more than what Aziraphale was paying. Aziraphale clicked on _reply_ , then stared at the screen for a while longer before beginning to compose his message.

**Dear Crowley,**

**I do actually have a question. I didn’t ask because I thought it might be rather cheeky, but since you offered before, could you recommend some good foraging spots in St James’s Park please? I am planning to walk over there this afternoon and it would be useful to have some direction.**

**Best wishes**

**Aziraphale**

That message had taken ten minutes to compose. Somewhere in that ten minutes, Aziraphale had become absolutely determined that he was actually going to go outside. He had to have questions to ask Crowley, or Crowley would downgrade his membership, and the best way to come up with questions was to actually have a go at foraging. Furthermore, if he told Crowley he was going, he would have to go, because he didn’t want to lie to him (anymore than he already had), so maybe this would give him the kick he needed to finally get him out the front door.

**Hi Aziraphale**

**Can you get on Zoom now? I can share my screen and show you on a map?**

**Crowley**

So much for not lying... Aziraphale replied to say he couldn’t get on Zoom at the moment (even though he couldn’t think of any justification for why that might be the case), and sat staring at his laptop, muscles clenched, breathing shallow, waiting for a reply that fifteen minutes later still hadn’t come. Aziraphale ran his fingers up over his scalp and cradled the back of his neck with his hands. He fetched a piece of homemade Victoria sponge cake and the now lukewarm cup of tea from the kitchen and returned to staring at the screen, his mind unhelpfully filling in the silence with thoughts that really just boiled down to _he thinks you’re ridiculous_.

Aziraphale shoved too much cake into his mouth and focused on the rhythm of his jaw moving up and down as he chewed. Five minutes later, the laptop chimed.

**Hi Aziraphale**

**No problem, I’ve attached a map for you and labelled all the best spots with what you can find in St James’s now. What time are you heading down there?**

**Take care**

**Crowley**

Aziraphale opened the attachment. It was immediately evident why Crowley had taken twenty minutes to reply. It was a photograph of a map of St James’s Park that Crowley had printed out and written on by hand, labelling all of the different areas with details of which edible plants could be found there now, with a few warnings about non-edible species growing amongst them to watch out for. At the bottom he’d written ‘have fun!’ and drawn a smiley face. Aziraphale clutched his hand to his heart and sighed. People really could be rather lovely when he gave them the chance to be. It was a pity he didn’t deserve Crowley’s kindness given his rudeness and dishonesty towards him.

Aziraphale printed the map out and clutched it in his hands eagerly like he had just discovered a secret treasure map. He _had_ to go out now. He wouldn’t be able to bear it knowing Crowley had gone to this trouble for nothing. The thought of that was worse than anything he might encounter outside.

**Dear Crowley**

**This is absolutely perfect, thank you so much! You really needn’t have gone to all that trouble, but I really am very grateful. Thank you so much again for your help. I believe I will head down there straight after lunch.**

**Best wishes**

**Aziraphale**

* * *

Mask on and treasure map folded neatly in his coat pocket, Aziraphale opened the front door of his shop and finally stepped outside. The streets were quieter than he had feared, and the people he did encounter made as much effort as he did to keep their distance. Aziraphale made it to St James’s Park without incident, and grinned behind his mask as he looked around at the trees that had been bare last time he had seen them, but were now in full leaf. He glanced up at the sky and the wispy white clouds scattered across it, the birds flying above him, and then over to the ducks paddling their way happily over to him as he approached them. A tear ran down his cheek, and as he breathed out a long, slow breath, the tension he had been holding since he had left the bookshop dissipated.

Aziraphale had brought a bag full of oats with him to feed the ducks, so he had started with them, planning to fill the bag back up with anything edible he found using Crowley’s map as he walked around the park. The ducks seemed so excited to see him, and he knew they were really excited to see the oats no matter which human hand was delivering them, but it still made him feel wanted, like he could do something good for another living thing. He missed that feeling.

Ducks fed and content, Aziraphale began his expedition. Crowley’s map suggested he focus on nettles ( _only take the top four leaves_ ) and wild garlic in May, but in the state of anxious excitement he’d worked himself up into before he’d left the bookshop, Aziraphale had forgotten to bring gloves, so the wild garlic would have to do. That was enough, he’d heard often enough recently of the need to be kind to oneself. Coming to the park and feeding the ducks and going home with even a single leaf of wild garlic would be an achievement.

He headed for an area labelled on the map with ‘ _this is the best spot for wild garlic, not many people come up this way - watch out for young leaves of Lords and Ladies amongst it though_ ’, and as he approached, he folded up the map and stowed it away in his pocket, extracting the empty bag with a smile. He was still some distance away, but he could already tell (after all, he was extremely knowledgeable about the subject himself now) that this small fragment of woodland ahead would be the perfect habitat for wild garlic. He halted his approach, however, when he saw movement amongst the trees.

He hadn’t expected to encounter anyone, Crowley having said that people rarely came up here, and he froze, closing his hand into a fist around the bag. The fist clenched even tighter when the figure emerged from the trees, and Aziraphale instantly recognised him as Crowley.

Aziraphale crouched down on the ground, an instinct to make himself as small as possible in an attempt to hide, and then quickly pulled his shoelaces undone and began, falteringly, tying them back up to provide passers-by with an excuse for his strange behaviour. He stayed there for perhaps as long as a minute, and it occurred to him that he really shouldn’t have been so concerned about coming outside. People were giving him an extremely wide berth, just as they had his entire life.

Quite unreasonably, Aziraphale’s first thought was that Crowley was here attempting to beat him to harvesting the best of the wild garlic. Fortunately, even Aziraphale’s illogical brain was able to dismiss that very quickly. Crowley was almost certainly here because he knew _Aziraphale_ was coming here, but exactly _why_ was unclear. Perhaps he was just curious to see what kind of person clearly appreciated his work but still insisted on lying and being rude to him.

Aziraphale had been crouched on the ground for too long, he had to make a decision about what to do. He subtly twisted his body and rose up, walking back in the direction he’d come and kept going until he reached an empty bench, which he flopped himself down on. So he would go home without a leaf of wild garlic (he tried to ignore the stinging in his eyes the thought of that induced) but he had seen, albeit from a distance, the wild garlic habitat, and felt confident he would have recognised it as such even without Crowley’s map. That was something.

_He might have come here when he knew you were coming here because he wanted company._

Aziraphale’s incessant inner monologue switched disconcertingly to dialogue.

_That’s preposterous._

_Is it? He seemed happy when you said you were from Soho, he chose to let you know he lived nearby. He said he was missing running his courses. The camera operator person obviously isn’t with him. In fact, didn’t he say he was alone when he ran the Zoom session? And he asked what time you were coming down here._

_He doesn’t know me._

_Maybe he wants to get to know you? Someone who lives nearby who shares some of his interests? You do know how people make friends, don’t you?_

_I’m not having this conversation. Especially not with myself. Is this what it’s come to? I’ve only been isolated for a couple of months and I’m already talking to myself._

_Because people need conversation and you refuse to talk to anyone else. Even when they make it easy for you by trying to initiate it. Like Crowley._

_Even if I wanted to, I can’t talk to him, you know that, not with how I feel about him._

_You might have a point there._

Aziraphale sighed and rubbed his hand across his forehead. He tried to imagine what would have happened if he hadn’t run away like a coward. Their eyes would have met, and they would have smiled at each other, and they'd both have been able to tell despite their masks because their smiles would have reached their eyes, and Crowley would have asked if he was Aziraphale, and he would have said yes, and they would have harvested wild garlic ‘together’, Aziraphale would have stayed about five metres away at all times, and surely at that distance, Crowley wouldn’t have been able to tell how Aziraphale’s heart and lungs and gut responded to the sight of him?

Tears started flowing freely down Aziraphale’s cheeks. He moved both hands up to brush them away and then held them there, his palms pressed against his cheeks, holding his head up. He was exhausted. Why was he so exhausted, he’d hardly done anything?

Right now, instead of sitting on a bench, crying and alone, he could have been harvesting wild garlic with Crowley, and then he could have gone home and cooked one of Crowley’s recipes using it, rather than returning to the bookshop empty handed. He involuntarily let out a sob, earning him a disapproving glance from a passing stranger, who increased the distance between them by as much as the path would allow.

Aziraphale gritted his teeth and stood, determinedly marching back up towards the woodland. He’d had enough of this, being the vehicle of his own destruction. He pulled the empty bag back out of his pocket, flicked it open and strode into the woodland, the strong scent of wild garlic filling his nostrils immediately. Crowley, of course, had already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might ease off torturing poor Aziraphale soon, bless him. By the way, if Crowley's scheme had worked, he would absolutely have stayed about five metres away from Aziraphale at all times! <3
> 
> In the next chapter, both Crowley and Aziraphale get hold of some fun new tech...


	5. Almost real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley both try out some new technology, but it might be more than Aziraphale can handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for some *pleasant* torture now, my darling Aziraphale... <3

It was now June, and Aziraphale hadn’t left the bookshop since his trip to St James’s Park last month. He had returned home with a bag full of wild garlic, which he had added to soup and pasta dishes and had used to make pesto. He had also dried some to store for later in the year. It would already be too late to harvest more now.

He had continued to fall asleep every night to the sound of Crowley’s voice. He had watched every video the man had ever uploaded, several of them multiple times, and now eagerly awaited each notification indicating that Crowley had published something new. The latest videos were Aziraphale’s favourites, because he knew Crowley had been alone when he was filming them, so it felt less like someone else was there intruding.

They had gone bat watching and stargazing, enjoyed a picnic in the park and climbed a tree together, although the camera work on that last one had been a little shaky. Crowley had then emailed all of his patrons saying he had a special foraging video that would be uploaded soon, and that he’d taken the opportunity to try out some new tech he had acquired. Aziraphale was intrigued.

Unfortunately, when the upload notification finally came, Aziraphale found himself quite literally unable to appreciate it.

**[360 POV!!] Relax with some summer foraging with me and a homemade skincare surprise [32:44]**

Aziraphale read the description. Apparently, Crowley had used a new 360 degree camera, which meant that anyone watching this video on a smartphone or (Aziraphale might have stopped breathing for a moment at the next three words) virtual reality headset would be able to actually look around them rather than just being stuck with one view, making it feel much more real. Aziraphale _obviously_ didn’t own a virtual reality headset, but he didn’t even own a smartphone. His basic Nokia served him quite well, thank you very much. Well, it had done, until now.

Aziraphale could just watch the video on his laptop. The description assured him that it would still be watchable, he would just be stuck with a single view unless he used the arrows on the screen to navigate using the mouse, which would hardly be the same experience. Aziraphale really wanted to know what the ‘skincare surprise’ was, but he couldn’t bring himself to watch the video in a way other than what Crowley had intended when he’d put all that effort into creating it.

He wasn’t going to give up that easily though. He headed to his front door, picked up his mask, and then hid away in his flat.

A few hours later, Aziraphale heard the sound of the front door of the bookshop opening, followed by shuffling. He fixed his mask onto his face, took a deep breath, and then opened the door to his flat, standing at the top of the stairs leading down into the bookshop.

“Oh, hey Zi!” Adam called up to him.

“Hello, Adam. Thank you so much for continuing to help me. I’ll be sure to write you a good reference if you ever need one.”

“Thanks. I’m glad you’re selling so many books, that’s great.”

“Yes, it is. I have actually been...” Aziraphale began, and actually descended two of the steps, bringing him slightly closer to Adam. “I’ve been thinking of treating myself. You know I’ve been struggling with my anxiety?”

Adam looked slightly uncomfortable but shrugged and nodded.

“I’ve found these remarkable videos of... nature scenes, online, and they’ve helped me to feel so much calmer.”

“Yeah, you seem calmer to be honest,” Adam said, his eyes smiling.

“Well, apparently, there are these totally immersive versions. _Virtual reality_ ,” Aziraphale suggested, and something about how he said it made Adam laugh affectionately. “I’ve been considering getting a virtual reality headset, but it’s terribly expensive for something I might not even get on with, so I was wondering...”

“You wanna borrow mine to try it out? No probs, Zi. I’ll drop it off next time I’m here.”

“Oh! Oh, thank you! Thank you, Adam!”

“You’re welcome,” Adam replied, and Aziraphale could tell he was grinning as he lifted up the boxes of books. “See ya.”

Now _that_ was worth leaving the safety of his flat and having a conversation with another human being for.

* * *

Two days later, Adam returned to pick up more books and a tin full of chocolate cupcakes covered with lashings of buttercream (Aziraphale knew those were his favourite), and to drop off the VR headset. It had taken Aziraphale longer than he cared to admit to figure out how to use it, but eventually, it was all set up and ready to go, Crowley’s video open, just waiting for him to press play.

Aziraphale checked the front door was locked, then retreated up to his flat and locked that door behind him as well. He was once again trembling, but this was different from what he was used to. Just as they had been on the first night he had watched one of Crowley’s videos, his cheeks were aching from smiling so much. He bit his bottom lip and settled himself comfortably on the bed. He lifted the VR headset, preparing to position it on his head, before freezing and lowering it back down.

“Oh, I can’t. I can’t do this. I can’t handle this.” He spent a moment performing one of the breathing exercises he had learnt from Crowley. “Oh for God’s sake, it’s just a video, of course I can!” He pulled the headset on so forcefully he almost hurt himself, and then settled his head back on the pillow and pressed play.

_Oh my God._

_OH. MY. GOD._

Aziraphale sat back up in bed and leaned back against the headboard.

They were back by the stream in the woodland. Crowley was sat on the blanket beside him, smiling. Aziraphale turned to look at him fully. He actually _turned to look at him_! He moved his eyes over Crowley’s face, his eyes covered with sunglasses, and then Aziraphale’s attention was drawn to his hair, which was lying completely loose but pushed behind his ears, a single braid running down the side. Aziraphale tilted his head down, working his way down Crowley’s chest, which was covered with an extremely tight-fitting light grey vest, and then his gaze travelled all the way along his legs, past his dark grey shorts, along his exposed calves and to his feet. It was as though he was actually _there_ with Crowley, but without the awkwardness that would have come from being caught checking him out.

He may not be able to _pay_ Adam, but maybe he could give him an extremely generous _gift_ when all this was over?

Aziraphale moved his head and gazed all around him. The woodland looked quite different now than it had in the spring. The trees had completely filled out with leaves, even the ash that Crowley had pointed out last time. The birds were still singing passionately, and the rippling of the stream in front of them was just as soothing as before. More so, in fact, now that it felt like Aziraphale was actually there. He turned his attention away from the stream and back to Crowley, who was smiling at him. Aziraphale’s heart leapt up into his throat. Crowley took off his sunglasses and hooked them onto the front of his vest.

“I have a surprise for you,” he murmured. Aziraphale gasped quietly. Crowley reached behind himself, and Aziraphale moved his head to follow, seeing Crowley pick up his willow basket and bring it onto his lap. “Remember the elderflowers and wild strawberries we picked on the way up here?” Crowley asked softly. Aziraphale played along and nodded, peering into the basket. Crowley was twirling a sprig of elderflowers between his fingers.

“Do you trust me to help you relax?” Crowley asked.

“Of course,” Aziraphale replied to his empty bedroom.

“Good. Lie down on the blanket for me.”

Aziraphale shuffled back down and rested his head on the pillow. He was looking up at the tops of the trees. He could hear Crowley shuffling around, and rolled his head to the side to watch what he was doing. Crowley was plucking some of the elderflowers away from their stems and depositing them into a small wooden bowl. He then unscrewed the cap from a stainless steel flask, and poured some steaming water on top of them. He looked up at Aziraphale and smiled, and Aziraphale was very pleased that he’d chosen to roll over and watch him.

Crowley shuffled over on his knees, bringing the bowl with him. He was pressing a cotton pad into the elderflower water. Crowley discreetly pointed a finger upwards, which Aziraphale took as an indication that he should be looking up towards the sky. It was actually very clever, because it was a gesture that would only have been seen by someone not already looking upwards, making the experience feel even more real. Aziraphale complied, and rolled his head back onto the pillow.

Crowley leaned over him and looked right into his eyes, that heart-meltingly serene smile on his face, then lowered the cotton pad to Aziraphale’s forehead.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!” Aziraphale gasped as he sat up and ripped the headset off and threw it onto the bed. He had not been prepared for _that_. “Oh, fuck!”

Aziraphale took a few deep breaths, leaning forward and resting his forehead on his clasped hands. Crowley had been looking right at him, those warm, brown eyes gazing down at him as if he were the only thing in the whole world, and he _knew_ it wasn’t real but _good Lord_ had it _felt_ real... Aziraphale’s forehead had even tingled when Crowley had lowered his hand towards it. He had almost been able to _feel_ Crowley there with him.

This really was incredible. The sensation of being close to another person, of feeling cared for, without any of the awkwardness that came from _actually_ being with another person and risking saying the wrong thing or being subjected to their judgements... Aziraphale told himself to buck up, rewound the video to the part where Crowley was removing the elderflowers from the stems, and lay back down on the pillow, the headset securely back in place.

This time, he kept looking up at the tree canopy, breathing in deeply when Crowley leaned over him. He lay completely still, his chest and shoulders tense as Crowley slowly and gently swept the cotton pad over his forehead, down his nose, over both of his cheeks and his chin, his eyes unwaveringly and intently focused on Aziraphale.

“Elderflower water is wonderful for your skin. It’s mildly astringent, and it smells lovely too, doesn’t it?”

Somehow, the illusion of a mild, floral fragrance filled the room. Aziraphale’s mind was definitely buying into this, and he hummed in agreement.

“Right, this next part might be messy but it’ll be fun,” Crowley murmured, shuffling away again and reaching for another wooden bowl. Aziraphale raised himself up slightly, turning his head to watch. This time, Crowley deposited the wild strawberries into the bowl, then began crushing them into a pulp with a pestle. He then added a white powder from a small jar and a splash of water from the flask, before using the pestle to mix it all together.

“It’s a face mask. The good kind,” he added with a lopsided smile. Crowley coated his fingertips with the mixture and leaned back over Aziraphale, who had rolled back over to look up once again at the treetops. Crowley gently smoothed some of the mixture onto Aziraphale’s forehead and tenderly spread it out, and somehow, given that Aziraphale’s face wasn’t actually in the woodland, when he withdrew his hand the mixture had disappeared. Aziraphale wanted to stay immersed in the experience, but it was hard not to think about the fact that Crowley must have set something up around the camera onto which he could smear the mixture. It would have been quite a comical sight, certainly, if someone had stumbled across him. Aziraphale smiled. Crowley’s dedication to his work just made him love him more.

_You don’t_ love _him, you don’t even know him! You’re not far off fifty and you have a ridiculous schoolboy crush on him. He’s just performing. If you wanted to_ actually _get to know him then you should have..._

_All right, all right, shush! I’m having a strawberry face mask applied in a woodland, let me be._

Ignoring thoughts of Crowley’s camera set-up, and those other unhelpful thoughts, he breathed in deeply and re-immersed himself in the experience. His face tingled everywhere that Crowley spread the mixture, and pleasant shivers travelled down his spine.

“The strawberries smell wonderful, don’t they?” Aziraphale nodded slightly. He had been able to smell them even before Crowley prompted him. “Right, you just lie back and let that work for a while, and then I’ll wipe if off for you.”

Aziraphale sighed contentedly and looked up at the treetops, birds flitting between them. He was already thinking that he should go back out to the park, find some elderflowers and wild strawberries, then come back home and recreate this experience with an additional layer of realism. Consideration of heading outside again threatened to bring on another wave of anxiety, so he pushed the thought aside for now and just focused on his breathing and the imaginary scent of strawberries, watching the antics of the birds and squirrels above him. Occasionally, he rolled his head to the side to watch Crowley lying beside him, his sunglasses back on and his hands clasped behind his head, looking up towards the sky.

“You’re so clever. You’re so good at what you do,” Aziraphale murmured. Crowley, of course, didn’t respond. Perhaps it was time to get over this ridiculous fear, _and_ this ridiculous crush, and actually have a real conversation with the man.

_Perhaps._

After about ten minutes, Aziraphale heard Crowley move beside him. Soon he was leaning over him again, gently wiping away the strawberry face mask from his skin. Once again, Aziraphale could actually _feel_ every touch. In a sense, it was more of a whisper of a touch, but it was undeniably there, his skin responding as if it were real and sending tingles spreading throughout his entire body.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale whispered.


	6. Forbidden questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale writes a list of questions and actually *talks* to Crowley. It doesn't go according to plan.

Aziraphale had indeed headed back to St James’s Park in search of elderflowers and wild strawberries. Some shops were starting to reopen, and he knew he had to be prepared, at some point, to do the same. He hoped that getting out to the park more often might help to make welcoming people back into his shop less of a shock to the system after months of isolation.

He had recreated what Crowley had done in the video (the description beneath it revealing that the white powder he had added to the face mask was a cosmetic clay called kaolin, which Aziraphale had been able to order online), and treated himself to a mini spa day at home. As tempting as it was to attempt to apply the face mask while wearing the VR headset, he couldn’t risk accidentally damaging Adam’s property, especially after he had been so kind and generous.

The feeling that Aziraphale would actually quite like to talk to Crowley, surprisingly, hadn’t dampened, and he found himself considering the best way to initiate a conversation. He had two options:

Option 1: Attend Crowley’s forthcoming “Introduction to urban foraging (summer edition)” Zoom session. He could put his camera on, overcoming the hurdle of actually letting Crowley see his face, and maybe send him some messages in the chat. _Maybe_ say thank you out loud with his microphone on at the end; he could see how he was feeling before he committed to that.

Pro – There would be no pressure to actually say anything. This was a good way to ease himself in gently to the idea of interacting with Crowley.

Con – Other people would be able to see him.

Con – Spaces on the session were limited and it seemed wrong to take one from someone else who might then support Crowley’s work financially.

Option 2: Email Crowley and ask for a one-to-one Q&A session on Zoom.

Pro - No one else there to watch when he inevitably made a fool of himself.

Con - All of Crowley’s attention would be on him.

Pro – All of Crowley’s attention would be on him.

_Oh, for God’s sake._

Pro – He had to ask questions at some point or Crowley might suggest downgrading his membership again.

Con – He had to come up with questions that didn’t sound stupid.

_How about, “Since we live so close, do you want to go foraging together sometime?” That’s not a stupid question._

_No, quite right, it’s not a stupid question, it’s the stupid question!_

_Or is it?_

“Ohhh I’m talking to myself again! And doing it out loud doesn’t make it any better!” Aziraphale huffed out a breath and tapped his palms rapidly against his thighs. “Right, maybe I’ll work up to asking... _that_ , but I can’t _start_ by asking that. We’ve never even had a proper conversation. I need to think of something else.”

**Dear Crowley**

**Please could you let me know when you would be available to speak on Zoom? I have some questions I would like to ask you, if that’s all right?**

**Best wishes**

**Aziraphale**

This strategy was one he occasionally employed to help deal with his anxiety, and it could honestly go either way. The strategy involved taking action to commit himself to something he was worried he would back out of later, before thinking through how he would actually do it. Sometimes it was the only way to get things done and to escape from the labyrinth of over-thinking.

After several hours of trying to think of things he _could_ ask Crowley, Aziraphale shifted focus and decided to make a list of things he actually _wanted_ to ask Crowley. Then, if any of them were appropriate, at least he wouldn’t be completely wasting Crowley’s time asking him to answer questions he didn’t really want the answers to just to have an excuse to speak to him. It wasn’t fair to waste Crowley’s precious time like that.

**Hi Aziraphale**

**I’m pretty flexible at the moment as I’m sure you can imagine! Am free now actually if you want?**

**Crowley**

_No! No, not now! I haven’t finished my list!_

Aziraphale then reminded himself that this was an email, and there was no way for Crowley to know he had read it yet. He just needed to calm down and finish the list. He had started writing down everything he wanted to know, no matter how ridiculous.

The list was as follows:

  1. What do you find are the best techniques for helping someone to manage anxiety?
  2. Have you had any contact with anyone in the past 14 days, and if not, do you want to go foraging together?
  3. Do you have any other skincare recipes I could try using things I can forage for? (NB - this involves admitting to him that you’ve watched that video)
  4. When you record your POV videos, how much of that is acting? Are you really like that in real life?
  5. Who normally operates the camera? What’s their relationship to you?
  6. Did you think I was rude when I came to your Zoom session?
  7. Do you know how perfect you are?
  8. When this situation is over, will you be running one-to-one sessions face-to-face? Do you run any natural wellbeing ones?
  9. Why am I like this?
  10. Please will you hold me in your arms for real, just one time?



When Aziraphale had written down the first question he had been quite certain it would be one of the first to be crossed off whatever list he came up with, but now, with ten points on the list, it was definitely one of the most appropriate. Scratch that, it was one of only two vaguely appropriate questions on the list, the other being number 3.

The only downsides pertaining to those questions were that they involved being open and vulnerable with Crowley, admitting he suffered from anxiety and furthermore that he watched Crowley’s POV natural wellbeing videos to help cope with it... But Crowley wouldn’t have created those videos if he didn’t expect to have patrons who suffered from anxiety, and if he didn’t think the videos would help them.

**Dear Crowley**

**Yes, I am available at any time today, thank you so much.**

**Best wishes**

**Aziraphale**

After Aziraphale clicked send on the email, the room seemed to start spinning. Aziraphale’s stomach alternated between occupying a space too low in his abdomen and somewhere right up in his chest. His throat felt like it was closing, possibly in an effort to stop his heart from escaping through it, which it was certainly trying to do. He pressed his palms to the sofa on either side of him as the laptop chimed to indicate receipt of a response.

**Sure, here you go.**

**C**

Crowley had sent a link to a Zoom meeting. Something was pulsing inside Aziraphale’s gut, sending waves out that crawled along his skin from the inside and left him trembling. His eyes pricked with tears.

“I can’t, I can’t. I can’t do this. Oh no, oh _please_ , no. I can’t cry, not now. Please, not now,” Aziraphale pleaded with himself, but his begging only served to hurry the tears along. Now he _really_ felt trapped. Aziraphale sniffed and wiped his eyes, clicking on the link to the Zoom meeting.

_Connect with video?_

Aziraphale shook his head forcefully and selected _No_.

The image of his own face (complete with blotchy cheeks and weary, red eyes) was replaced by the image of Crowley, looking as calm yet energetic and stunningly handsome as always. He grinned.

“Hey.”

“Hello,” Aziraphale croaked.

“I can’t see you?”

“No, I’m sorry. I... I can’t put my camera on at the moment.”

“Ah, ok, no worries. What can I do for you?”

Aziraphale brushed away more tears and drew in a deep breath as quietly as possible. A few seconds passed. Crowley’s grin had faded and he was looking into the camera with concern.

“Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale gasped for breath, no longer able to do anything to control it.

“Hey, Aziraphale, are you all right?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry... I’ll just go...” Aziraphale choked out between breaths, desperately trying to steady his hand enough to move the cursor to _End meeting_.

“No, wait! Don’t go. It’s ok. You’re ok. Just breathe, all right? Everything’s going to be fine.” 

“It’s not. It’s really not,” Aziraphale sobbed.

“Just focus on me for a second, ok? Try to take deep breaths.”

“I feel sick!”

“I know, I know, it’s all right. It’ll pass. Just breathe for me, ok?”

Aziraphale closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing, but every time he had nearly succeeded in bringing it under control, he was reminded of the fact that he was talking to Crowley, and Crowley _had heard all of this. Oh, God._

“You’re doing so well.”

“I’m really not. You’re just being nice.”

“I’m not being _nice_ , Aziraphale, I can hear your breathing slowing down,” Crowley responded calmly. Something shifted inside Aziraphale then. Possibly the worst thing that could have happened _had_ happened, and he was still here, still breathing, and there was something bizarrely comforting about that.

“You’ve helped me so much, and I really need to tell you, because you have no idea how grateful I am. I can’t even begin to express it, Crowley. These past few months have been hell, and...” Aziraphale paused to draw in a deep breath.

“That’s very kind of you to say, Aziraphale, but you don’t need to thank me. Just try to relax, ok? Take your time.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Please don’t apologise. You have nothing to apologise for. We can stay on here as long as you need, and if you want to reconnect later or another day to ask your questions that’s completely fine with me.”

Crowley had offered him a way out. He had permission to leave the meeting right now. Given the option, he wasn’t sure he actually wanted to, but he also wasn’t sure what to say if he didn’t. He _supposed_ he could ask his first question, after all, he had rather provided a rather good introduction to it. Aziraphale started laughing.

“Aziraphale?”

This response was as equally difficult to stop as the crying had been, and Aziraphale doubled over and laughed until his sides were aching.

“Sometimes when we experience intense negative emotions, our brain tries to modulate them by making us laugh.”

Aziraphale looked back up at the screen, and Crowley was looking at him with a mixture of concern and reassurance that broke his heart a little.

“You mean,” Aziraphale began when he had regained control of himself. “I’m _so_ anxious that it completely overwhelmed my brain?”

“I wouldn’t put it quite like that, but it’s like the opposite, you know when you laugh so much that you cry? It’s normal.”

“Nothing about this is normal.”

“You’d be surprised. Are you feeling all right?”

“I’m fine,” Aziraphale replied. In his mind ‘I’m fine’ was the appropriate response when he wasn’t a complete quivering wreck. Otherwise, he’d never get to say he was ‘fine’.

“Would you like to keep talking now or shall we reschedule?” Crowley asked softly. Aziraphale surprised himself with his response.

“Can we do both?” he asked gently. “I mean, I’d like to keep talking for a while, if that’s all right with you? But perhaps I’ll be in a better frame of mind to ask my questions another time?”

Crowley smiled _the_ smile that Aziraphale had seen him direct at his camera many, many times, but this time it was directed at the camera and specifically intended for Aziraphale.

“Of course, that’s completely fine. What would you like to talk about now?”

“Who operates your camera?”

_No! NO! ABORT! That question was on the forbidden list! NO!_

“Before all this happened, you mean?” Crowley asked, gesturing around himself. He didn’t seem to find the question ridiculous at all. “Anathema. She’s my friend’s daughter, she’s training to be a bushcraft instructor.”

_My friend’s daughter_. That didn’t sound like a romantic connection. _As if that makes any difference,_ Aziraphale reminded himself.

“What does that involve?”

“Well, some of the same things that I do, but more physical stuff like building dens and making string from nettles and lighting fires without matches.”

“Making string from nettles sounds painful.”

“Nah, if you touch them right you can even eat them raw without stinging yourself. I’ll show you sometime.”

That got tenderly placed into the foraging basket inside Aziraphale’s mind labelled ‘things to consider endlessly later’.

“Did you think I was rude when I came to your foraging session before?”

_Erm... Aziraphale? What is this? Are you actually just going to work your way through the entire list of forbidden questions, for heaven’s sake?_

“What? No? Why would I?”

“You asked people to people put their cameras on and I... didn’t.”

“I’d never want anyone to do anything they were uncomfortable with! If you don’t want to put your camera on, you don’t put your camera on. That’s not rude. I’m so sorry I made you feel that way.”

“What? No!” It was Aziraphale’s turn to respond incredulously. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Oh, I’m sorry, Crowley...”

“Hey, it’s ok,” Crowley said, raising his palms up towards the camera. “We might end up going around in circles here. Everything’s fine, I promise.”

“Aside from the pandemic, you mean. And the cannibal rats, did you read about the cannibal rats?”

“No...?”

“The rats in London that normally eat all the leftovers from restaurants in the bins have started eating each other.”

“Oh God, Aziraphale, reading that kind of thing probably isn’t helping your anxiety.”

Aziraphale smiled despite himself.

“I don’t read that kind of thing anymore. Believe it or not I’m actually doing a lot better than I was at the beginning.”

“I’m very pleased to hear that,” Crowley said with a smile, and it was evident that he meant it.

“Because of you, I mean. Your videos, they’re what stopped me from, you know...”

“Doom scrolling?”

“Yes.”

“That’s an enormous compliment. Thank you, Aziraphale.”

“Do you know how...” _NO! Not question 7, Aziraphale! Question 7 is strictly off limits!_ “Do you know how much you help people?” he opted for instead.

“I do now,” Crowley replied softly, and Aziraphale’s insides liquefied.


	7. Bubble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley have another Zoom meeting, and Aziraphale is feeling much braver this time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus points if you spot the line from Staged. It's one of my favourites. :-)
> 
> Aziraphale starts recalling a bad experience from his past in this chapter (guess who was involved there???). He's definitely got some stuff he still needs to work out relating to his asexuality - it'll be explored more later on.

Aziraphale had stared at his blank computer screen for about fifteen minutes after he and Crowley had left their Zoom meeting. For a while, his mind had been blank. It was such an unusual feeling that he allowed himself to just sit there, almost in awe of it, enjoying the silence.

Then he started thinking about what had learnt about Crowley.

He couldn’t quite believe he’d had the nerve to ask who operated his camera, but when nothing bad came of asking, he did force himself to accept that sometimes he thought far too much about what people would think of what he said when really it was quite innocuous. And now he had his answer, and instead of picturing Crowley filming those videos with a romantic partner (whose image had been an entirely amorphous blob in Aziraphale’s mind), he pictured a young woman excited to be helping and learning from such a highly skilled and knowledgeable man.

He didn’t think Crowley would share a tent with a _friend’s daughter_ , but he had realised that someone as thoroughly prepared as Crowley of course _knew_ that it was going to rain when he’d recorded the campfire video and had planned it just so. Fleeing from the rain and hiding in a tent listening to the rainfall on the canvas, with Crowley lying beside you... that was the whole point of that video, he was just so ridiculously talented that he managed to make it seem spontaneous. The second sleeping bag had been meant for Aziraphale all along.

_Well, not quite..._

_Oh, let me have this._

He had also learnt that Crowley didn’t think he was rude, which had helped him to relax immensely. His other discovery about Crowley had been that, yes, he really was as sweet and lovely as he appeared to be.

_Unless that was just acting too?_

_No, it wasn’t acting. It was professional, but it was sincere._

Aziraphale’s strategy of committing himself to an action he was anxious about without really thinking it through had certainly backfired as it occasionally did, reducing him to a panicking mess as soon as the time had come to actually connect to the meeting with Crowley. So when Crowley had asked, as they were saying goodbye, when he would like to talk again to ask his questions, Aziraphale had suggested the day after tomorrow, in the afternoon, which would give him more time to mentally prepare. He hoped it wouldn’t just result in more time for him to fret. Surely after what had happened he couldn’t be too anxious about interacting with Crowley? What could possibly happen at their next meeting that could be any worse than having a panic attack and then asking a series of forbidden questions?

When the _day after tomorrow_ actually arrived, Aziraphale’s heart was racing again. He couldn’t bring himself to eat anything at lunchtime, but he’d had a good breakfast and was determined that he would eat something after. He flitted about the bookshop, aimlessly reorganising things in an attempt to dispel some of the quivering energy trying to burst from inside him, but all the while he was smiling.

He had got fully dressed as if he were going out, minus the mask of course, and inspected his appearance in the mirror, fluffing his hair up a bit with twenty minutes to go until his meeting with Crowley. At five minutes to go, he was doing it again. At four minutes to go, he was staring at Zoom as the message on the screen changed to ‘Starts in 3 minutes’... ‘Starts in 2 minutes’... ‘Starts in 1 minute’...

“Oh, God, why do I do these things to myself?”

Aziraphale clicked on the button to start the meeting. The preview of his video image popped up. He repositioned the laptop screen to stop it from cutting off the top of his head, and moved his hand up to touch his hair again. He looked fine, he really needed to stop being so ridiculous or he’d end up actually being late. Besides, Crowley wouldn’t care.

_Connect with video?_

_Yes._

The meeting window opened, and there was Crowley, at his side. Crowley grinned, the purest and most sincere grin Aziraphale had ever seen. He smiled bashfully in return, and flicked his eyes to another part of the screen like he was averting his eyes from the sun. That smile was blinding.

“Aziraphale...” Crowley breathed. “Hey.”

“Hello, Crowley,” he offered quietly, his eyes focused on the Zoom control panel at the bottom of the screen.

“It’s so good to see you.”

Aziraphale chuckled nervously and flicked his eyes to the side of the screen. “Yes, well...”

“You can turn the camera off if you want?”

“Oh, no, it’s all right,” Aziraphale said. He then realised that looking at Crowley under these circumstances didn’t actually involve _looking at Crowley_. He fixed his eyes on the camera and smiled, then looked back at the image of Crowley.

Crowley had actually turned away from the screen too and was rubbing his hand across his collarbone. Aziraphale’s stomach sank when he realised he might not have seen him smile at him. He would just have to be brave enough to do it again.

“So, how are you?”

“Great,” Aziraphale began. “Good. Fine.” Crowley leaned in closer.

“Is that your house? It looks like you’re in a bookshop!”

“Oh! Well, yes, I am. I mean, yes, it’s both. I run a bookshop. It’s closed now obviously, and I live...” he ran out of steam and just pointed a finger upwards.

“That sounds great! You been selling online?”

“With the help of a lovely teenager who actually knows what he’s doing, yes I have. It’s been going quite well recently. It wasn’t, at first, but then there was an article about supporting independent booksellers, and... oh, I’m sorry, you can’t be interested in this.” Crowley furrowed his brow, so Aziraphale felt the need to add one last, “Sorry.”

“Of course I’m interested,” Crowley said kindly, but, convinced he was only being polite, Aziraphale didn’t continue. “So, you had some questions you wanted to ask me?”

The anxiety was starting to push against the extremely insecure lid that contained it, trickles of it leaking out and being absorbed into his bloodstream. Crowley was trying to hurry him along. Why had he insisted on rambling about stupid things?

“Oh, yes. Thank you. I...” Aziraphale chuckled nervously. “Well, this won’t come as a surprise to you I’m sure after the other day, but I’ve obviously seen that you’ve created a lot of content to help people relax, and I wondered if you have any other advice, or anything particular you can recommend, to help someone to... well, manage their anxiety?”

Crowley didn’t respond right away. He seemed to be looking intently at something on his screen, which is when Aziraphale realised that just as he didn’t have to be looking at Crowley to be looking at Crowley, Crowley could be looking at him without appearing to be. The lid on the anxiety was buckling.

“Look, Aziraphale, I really don’t think I’m qualified to...”

“Oh, no, right! Of course! You create things to help normal people relax, I suppose, if they’ve had a stressful day at work or something. A _normal_ level of anxiety. Of course, I’m sorry, I...”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“It makes perfect sense, my dear. Not to worry. Well... you know.” For a moment, Aziraphale had almost forgotten that Crowley could actually see him this time. He had crossed his arms tightly across his chest and was hanging his head down, staring at his lap.

“Aziraphale.”

Crowley’s voice brought his attention back to the screen. Crowley was looking right into his camera, and Aziraphale found himself questioning his motives. Did he think that having those gorgeous brown eyes trained directly on him was actually going to help Aziraphale _relax_? Aziraphale defiantly flicked his eyes up to stare into his own camera, so neither of them were actually looking at each other.

“Do you have... erm... is there someone who _is_ qualified that you talk to about your anxiety?” Crowley broached gently, and with that, the lid containing his anxiety actually sealed itself down, disregarded entirely to allow his body to focus on something much worse, the regret caused by seeing how uncomfortable he was making Crowley feel. Aziraphale looked sadly into his camera, still avoiding looking at Crowley’s image.

“No, I haven’t. This probably sounds silly after what happened the other day, but these are extraordinary times after all. It’s just that I’ve never actually considered it to be that much of a problem. If something makes me too anxious I’ve always just found a way to run away or hide from it, so then I don’t suffer so badly. I’ve read things that say that’s not healthy, that suggest that by doing that I’m not actually living my life, but I assure you I am quite content here alone in my bookshop. Well, normally, you know, before...” Aziraphale gestured around himself just as Crowley had done before to indicate the ‘ _global_ _situation_ ’. “I’m sure even _normal_ people have been anxious these past few months. You’re always out and about doing all sorts of exciting things so it probably sounds ridiculous to you that I’d be happy on my own just running my little shop, but it really is true. I’m fine.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes and sighed.

“It couldn’t hurt to talk it through with an expert.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes for a moment. This particular strategy for coping with his anxiety was fully ingrained. He’d been practising it since his twenties. If something made him feel the unpleasant sensation of anxiety then he just avoided it, and he didn’t see how that was any different from someone not ordering a meal they didn’t enjoy at a restaurant, or not reading a book belonging to a genre they didn’t appreciate. It was why he had never finished learning to drive. It was why he had quit his PhD when one of his supervisor’s colleagues had criticised his work at an internal research conference. It was the reason he had never pursued another relationship after Gabriel.

Not being able to drive was inconvenient, but was an inconvenience worth experiencing the anguish and exhaustion associated with intense anxiety? Not having a PhD had put an end to his dreams of becoming a researcher, but he wouldn’t have enjoyed it anyway, surely the amount of criticism would just have escalated as he’d progressed with his career. And there was no point thinking about relationships or what had happened with Gabriel. He had been honest about what he wanted, what he _didn’t_ want, not because he was anxious about it but because he had no interest... and he was no longer prepared to make the sacrifices he had intended to make when he was younger. He had always known that if he was going to be true to himself then he would be alone. He should have known better than to try anything different.

“No, I suppose you’re right,” Aziraphale finally replied. “I’ll look into it.”

Crowley let out a long breath and smiled.

“Ok, then. Was there anything else you wanted to ask me?”

Right, time to move on to question 3 off the list.

“Yes, there was one other thing. I watched the video you posted recently, you know, where you made skincare products using things you’d foraged for? I walked down to the park and got some elderflowers and wild strawberries and tried it for myself, it was extremely therapeutic.” Crowley was smiling widely now, his hand pressed to his chest just below his heart. “I was wondering if you had any other recipes I could try, using things I might find over these next few months?”

“Oh, absolutely! There’s tons of stuff you can do!” he grinned. “Water infusions are the easiest, like I did with the elderflowers. It’s a pretty good time for yarrow and the leaves are really distinctive so that’s an easy one to go for, probably a bit late for cleavers... but mallow flowers are starting to come out now, and of course there’s wild roses in the hedgerows, and in a couple of months there’ll be the elderberries and blackberries you can use them just like I did with the strawberries, and instead of adding plain water to the face mask mixture you can add your infusion of the oth--“

“Oh, erm... Crowley? Crowley!”

“Yeah?” he asked quietly.

“Could you just... I’m sorry... do you mind if I go and fetch my notebook? I’d like to write this down.”

Crowley tilted his head and smiled. “Yeah, of course.”

Aziraphale returned and busily scribbled everything he could remember into his notebook. “Yarrow, mallow, roses, elderberries, blackberries... did I miss anything?”

“No, that about covers it. I’ll type up some recipes for other things too and send them over to you. You can infuse oil with dried leaves and flowers too but it takes longer, but then you can use it to make body butter and stuff.”

“That sounds lovely,” Aziraphale sighed. Crowley nodded. “Do you do that sort of thing a lot yourself?”

“Yeah, quite often.”

“Is that why your skin looks so good?”

_Oh, Aziraphale, no! No! NO!_

“Oh, erm...” Crowley licked his lips and moved his eyes to another part of the screen. “I think my camera’s just bad enough quality to hide the worst of it,” Crowley chuckled. He was _lying_ ; his camera quality was excellent. Did he _know_ he was lying? “Was there... erm... anything else?” Crowley asked with a shake of his head.

“Oh...” The time had gone so quickly! Aziraphale reluctantly shook his head. “No, that was all, thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he sighed. Crowley raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry. It’s just been so strange, being completely alone all this time.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Have you seen anyone at all?”

“Nope. Hopefully things will be improving soon though, eh? Have you seen the restaurants are reopening in a couple of weeks?”

“Ah yes, the rats will be pleased,” Aziraphale joked. Crowley laughed. “Are you going to start seeing other people now? You know, form a ‘bubble’ when different households are allowed to get together?”

“I’ve got no one to ‘bubble’ with, Aziraphale. None of my friends and family live in London anymore. Anathema moved back to her parents’ house up in Tadfield, in Oxfordshire, just before the lockdown became compulsory. My dad moved down to Brighton when he retired a couple of years ago.”

“And you haven’t even been to the shops or anything?”

_Aziraphale, stop it! This is the beginnings of question 2 and you know it! Question 2 is on the forbidden list! Just ask him to take his temperature in front of you, why don’t you? Look, even if you establish that Crowley hasn’t had any contact with anyone, what are you going to say? So, hey, I saw you in the woodland that first day I went foraging but then I panicked and ran away but do you want to try again sometime? I promise I won’t run away from you?_

“Nah, been getting stuff delivered. There’s this local veg box scheme called Farm2Fork, do you know it?” Aziraphale shook his head. “You interested? ‘Cause if I recommend someone I get a free cabbage or something,” Crowley chuckled.

“Yes, that sounds wonderful.”

“’K, I’ll send you a link. I think you’ll get a free cabbage too.”

“Delightful,” Aziraphale teased, checking Crowley was looking and then smiling into the camera again. When he flicked his eyes back down, Crowley was no longer looking at the screen. “So you really haven’t spoken with anyone, face-to-face, I mean, since all this began?”

_Aziraphale, just hang on a moment because this still seems a bit like you’re working your way up to question 2._

_Shush._

“Nope.”

“Me neither. Well, once. From about seven metres away. For less than two minutes. And we both had masks on.”

Aziraphale was forced to admit that a small part of him had actually believed he would have the courage to follow through on question 2 and ask if Crowley wanted to go foraging with him, when he felt that familiar sinking feeling in his stomach and found his mouth refusing to open and say the words. They were both quiet for a moment. Crowley was staring intently at the screen again.

_Staring at me._

“Hey... err... so... would you like to... erm... you know... _bubble_? With me, I mean?” Crowley mumbled.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened and he nodded vigorously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Aziraphale, you can't just be smiling and looking right into your camera like that! ;-)
> 
> Well done if you spotted the line from Staged, I think it's underrated!
> 
> If you're outside the UK, in July in England the Government started letting different households form "extended households" or "bubbles", so they could meet with each other but not anyone from outside their bubble. Let the fun begin!


	8. Go for a picnic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley finally meet in St James's Park!

Aziraphale had never, ever, _ever_ voluntarily gone for a run in his entire life and that wasn’t about to change, but this was the closest he had ever come to wanting to. If he didn’t manage to dispel some of the nervous energy trapped inside him he felt like he was going to explode. Baking hadn’t helped. Wolfing down a massive pile of baked goods hadn’t helped. Subsequently curling up on the bathroom floor feeling nauseated _certainly_ hadn’t helped. Cleaning the entire bookshop even though it didn’t need it hadn’t helped either. Now he was pacing around the bookshelves. It helped, a little, but it wasn’t enough.

He was going to meet Crowley in St James’s Park. They were going to have a picnic, an actual picnic, just like in one of Crowley’s videos, except it would be real. Crowley would actually be there. Aziraphale would actually be outside. He’d be able to hear the birds singing and feel the breeze on his face and eat actual food rather than just pretend to. And Crowley would actually be there. _You’ve mentioned that, already._ And Crowley would be there. Crowley would actually be there.

_Again, I do think you’ve mentioned that._

After agreeing to form a bubble, Aziraphale and Crowley had both let out a long breath and then Crowley had suggested that they meet for some foraging on the Monday after ‘bubbling’ became official. Crowley had also suggested they follow it up with a picnic.

“All right,” Aziraphale had croaked out.

“Great, I’ll see you then.”

When that Monday arrived, bright sunshine was streaming in through the bookshop windows. It was only ten o’clock in the morning, but it was uncomfortably warm already. Aziraphale was overdressed, but it had taken so long to decide what to wear in the first place that he wasn’t sure he could face going through it again. He removed his waistcoat, but then had to go back upstairs to check his appearance in the mirror again. He glared at his reflection for a while, contemplating removing his bow tie.

_But it matches my mask._

Next, his fingertips went to his wrists, considering rolling up his sleeves. He decided against it and trudged back downstairs to the bookshop. It really didn’t matter what he looked like. Crowley wanted his company, and he wanted _Crowley’s_ company, and that was all that mattered.

_Crowley’s been alone for months he’d have jumped at the chance for anybody’s company, you know that, right?_

_Well, then, I’m glad I can help him._

At one o’clock, Aziraphale was standing throwing oats at the ducks in St James’s Park at their agreed rendezvous point.

“You know where I mean? There’s that black swan that comes right up and tries to bites people’s hands off over the fence?” Crowley had asked him.

“Yes, unfortunately I’m well acquainted with her,” Aziraphale had replied. Fortunately, the offending swan was nowhere to be seen on this particular day, and the ducks were gobbling up the oats happily, presumably pleased not to have her pecking at their tails.

_Do swans ‘peck’?_

“Hey, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale turned to see Crowley, who had sidled up to his left hand side. They smiled at each other from behind their masks. Crowley’s eyes were covered with sunglasses, but Aziraphale could make out the crinkling around his eyes.

“After what we talked about are you happy with me being... you know, within two metres?”

“Oh, yes, of course, neither of us have seen anybody, so...”

“It’s really nice to meet you. To actually _meet_ you, I mean.”

“Yes, you too. Very nice.”

“Shall we?” Crowley extended his arm and waved his willow basket around. Aziraphale smiled, a huge beaming smile just to make sure Crowley would be aware of it despite the mask, and stepped beside him as they walked along the path. Somehow this was the strangest part, walking side-by-side with Crowley instead of slightly behind him like in the videos. That may have been the strangest part, but the _hardest_ part was forcing himself not to keep glancing sideways to check him out. He was wearing exactly the same as he had in the 360 video in the woodland. Aziraphale wondered whether he even realised.

“Since you were asking about it, I thought we could focus on foraging for some skincare ingredients?”

“That sounds wonderful,” Aziraphale beamed.

“Good,” Crowley murmured so softly it was almost imperceptible. They walked for quite a while, Crowley leading Aziraphale to a quiet spot in the corner of the park where he assured him they were unlikely to be disturbed. Aziraphale assumed Crowley was trying to protect him from feeling anxious about other people coming too close, but, incredibly, since the moment Crowley had met him by the ducks, Aziraphale hadn’t felt anxious at all. His heart was racing, and he felt a little dizzy, but it was different from normal. It was a rush.

Crowley sneaked off the path and crouched down amongst some foliage. He returned to Aziraphale brandishing a dark green feathery leaf.

“Yarrow, here you go.”

“Oh, thank you,” Aziraphale took it from him and unfolded the bag he’d stowed away in his pocket, placing the frilly leaf inside. Crowley scanned his eyes all around him, then reached up and pulled his mask off, shoving it in the pocket of his shorts.

“You don’t mind, do you? There’s no one else here.”

“Oh no, of course not, I don’t mind. I don’t mind at all.” That was beyond an understatement. Now Aziraphale could actually see more of Crowley’s face, that blinding smile, and skin that really was absolutely flawless even close up. Perhaps later Crowley would take his sunglasses off and give Aziraphale the opportunity to actually see his eyes. It was probably a good thing that he had the chance to work up to that in stages.

Aziraphale reached up and removed his own mask, sliding it into the pocket of his trousers, and Crowley’s smile widened.

“There’s some mallow along here as well. Makes a nice tea too.” Crowley led Aziraphale to a cluster of lilac-coloured flowers, which was covered with bumblebees and hoverflies, fervently collecting pollen.

“It seems a shame to take it from them,” Aziraphale mused. Crowley cast his eyes around. It was early summer, and they were surrounded by flowers.

“I think they’ll be ok. The leaves are good too, though, if you prefer? Maybe we could just take one flower each?”

“All right.” Aziraphale picked a few of the leaves and one of the unoccupied flowers and placed them carefully in his bag. Crowley methodically worked his way through the plants harvesting more of the leaves, but, as promised, just the one flower, and placed them in his basket. Aziraphale then followed Crowley’s lead further along the path, and then they ducked into a small wooded area, not a single other person in sight.

“If we’re really lucky...” Crowley began, walking with purpose to a specific part of the woodland where he had obviously found something before. “Yes! Wild raspberries! I was hoping some of them would be ripe.” Crowley plucked one from the bush and popped it into his mouth. Aziraphale unconsciously parted his lips. “Want one?”

“Yes, please.”

A couple of images passed through Aziraphale’s mind then: Crowley walking over to him, Aziraphale opening his mouth and Crowley placing a raspberry on his tongue, followed by Crowley walking over and placing a raspberry in Aziraphale’s hand, brushing his fingertips against his palm in the process. Aziraphale wasn’t sure if there was any chance of either of those scenarios actually coming to pass, but, regardless, he approached Crowley and picked one of the ripe fruits from the bush himself and tasted it.

“Oh... it’s not as sweet as I thought.”

“No, they’ve selected for sweetness over the years in the cultivated ones. These are free, though,” Crowley chuckled. “You don’t like it?”

“No, no, I didn’t say that. It’s still good. I like it. It just isn’t what I was expecting.” Aziraphale picked a few more raspberries and placed them carefully in his bag, trying not to squash them. Crowley picked about a dozen and placed them in his basket.

“Happy to set up our picnic here or would you rather sit in the sun?”

“Here is fine,” Aziraphale replied with a smile. The shade of the miniature woodland was actually very pleasant, and it felt more... _private_ than other areas of the park.

It seemed that every time Aziraphale’s giddy excitement began to subside slightly, Crowley would do something to reignite it. Now, he did several things, unrelentingly stoking that particular fire. Firstly, he removed his sunglasses and hooked them over the front of his vest. Aziraphale may have gasped out loud, but he turned away and hopefully succeeded in hiding it. Then, Crowley reached into his bag and withdrew a blanket. _The_ blanket. The one from the videos. He spread it out on the ground as if it were no big deal. Then, he lowered himself down and settled himself on the blanket, rooting around in his bag and extracting Tupperware tubs full of food.

_Then_ , he... _No, he didn’t just do that. He didn’t._ Aziraphale cleared his throat. Crowley was... _Oh, God._ Crowley was patting the blanket beside him beckoning Aziraphale to come and join him.

Aziraphale couldn’t breathe and also could do nothing _but_ breathe, all at the same time. Somehow his legs carried him over to Crowley, and were rewarded for their efforts by being allowed to sink down onto the blanket.

“I didn’t know what you’d like so I may have overdone it,” Crowley mumbled bashfully, extracting more and more containers from his rucksack.

“Oh, I’m not fussy. Not with food, anyway. Thank you so much for doing all this. It looks wonderful.”

“My pleasure. I’m having a great time.”

“Me too,” Aziraphale smiled, and Crowley cleared his throat and started opening up the tubs of food. Crowley passed Aziraphale a plate, and he helped himself to at least one of everything before they settled into companionable silence to eat.

Aziraphale felt strange. He couldn’t feel his heart beating and touched his fingertips to his carotid artery to check his pulse. Was this how normal people felt? You weren’t supposed to be aware of your heart beating all the time, were you? It was strange, but it was calm. He felt present. He felt light. He felt _content_. Peaceful. Happy. Then, for a moment, those comfortable feelings were joined by an ache in his chest as he realised that all too soon, this was going to end.

“That was scrumptious!” Aziraphale announced. Crowley laughed.

“High praise! Thanks.”

Aziraphale relaxed back on the blanket, propping himself up on his elbows. Crowley did the opposite, sitting up straighter.

“So, I don’t know if you’d be interested, but I... well, we’ve got some good ingredients here,” he said uncertainly, gesturing to his basket, “and I brought some supplies, in case you wanted to, you know, make some stuff now?”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes and sat up straight again. Crowley’s demeanour had changed, and some of Aziraphale’s anxiety started to creep back in.

“Oh, like mallow tea, you mean? A cup of tea would be lovely!” Aziraphale beamed, trying to push aside the uneasiness. He wasn’t ready for this respite from his anxiety to end just yet.

“Err... yeah, no problem, I have a flask of hot water, I’ll make you one.”

Aziraphale smiled gratefully and watched Crowley rummaging around in his bag for the flask. It was then that he spotted that Crowley had brought those wooden bowls with him that Aziraphale had watched him use in the 360 video. The bowls he used to make skincare.

_Is that what he meant? But he couldn’t... I mean... he wouldn’t... it wouldn’t be like... it. What?_

“Oh, you have those bowls with you?” Aziraphale managed, aiming for nonchalance. He really couldn’t be sure whether he had achieved it.

“Oh, yeah. In case you wanted to make stuff... I mean, you said you were interested in it so I just thought...”

“Yes. Yes, please. That would be great, if you could show me.”

“Show you, yeah. I’ll show you how to make stuff. Yeah. Well, I have enough hot water for tea as well, so, let’s do that first.”

For the first time, Crowley seemed tense. Aziraphale’s blissful feelings of comfort and contentment evaporated like an ephemeral puddle in the sunshine, as he wracked his brain for what he might have done wrong to make him feel uncomfortable. He wanted to apologise, but he didn’t know what he was apologising for. His mind, of course, provided every possible option it could think of.

_You’ve been looking at him in a creepy way. You made him feel judged for wanting to pick flowers the bees were feeding on. You didn’t prepare any food or drink or anything you just let him do all the work. You didn’t even offer to carry it. Then you asked him to make you tea. You didn’t even thank him when he said yes. Did you thank him for the food? I don’t remember you thanking him for the food. Oh, and you made him feel weird about bringing the skincare-making stuff._

Aziraphale turned away from Crowley and closed his eyes. They were stinging, tears threatening to build. Aziraphale rubbed his eyes and sniffed.

“You all right?”

“Ah, yes... hay fever I think. I don’t normally suffer with it but perhaps being inside so much...” Aziraphale lied, a most lyingly lieful lie with an extra dollop of lie on top to garnish.

“Shall we move? Some of the grasses up there are flowering, that might have set it off?”

“No, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“’K. Let me know if you change your mind. Here you go,” Crowley said softly, handing him a cup of mallow tea made in the lid of his flask. Aziraphale took a sip. It was delicious. He should say so.

“It’s delicious, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Aziraphale stared down at the cup for a while, gaining comfort again from cradling something warm in his hands. He raised it near to his face and enjoyed the sensation of the steam condensing on his skin.

“I lied to you just now. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have.”

“It’s not delicious? It’s ok, I only poured hot water onto a leaf, I’m not going to be offended if you don’t like it.”

“Oh, no! It _is_ delicious! Really! And it’s making the back of my throat feel all... silky.” Crowley smiled briefly. “No, I lied about having hay fever. I was getting anxious again. I didn’t want to ruin our lovely day.”

“Oh, Aziraphale. Please don’t feel like you have to hide how you’re feeling. I wouldn’t want that. It’s perfectly understandable. You haven’t properly spent time with anyone in months, it was bound to make you feel anxious at some point, right? Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. Thank you, Crowley.”

“Why don’t I make up a face mask while you drink your tea? Give you something to focus on?”

Aziraphale nodded, then once he’d swallowed the tea in his mouth, murmured, “Thank you.”

Crowley added yarrow and mallow leaves to one bowl and poured some of the water from his flask onto them. In the other, he deposited a few raspberries and began squishing them with his pestle. He added the white powder that Aziraphale recognised as kaolin, and then carefully poured some of the water from the bowl containing the leaves into the other before mixing it all together. Aziraphale finished the last of his tea and placed the lid-come-cup beside him on the blanket.

“Easy, isn’t it?” Crowley smiled. “But very effective, and I like how you can just swap in whatever ingredients are ready for harvesting at different times of year. Would you find it relaxing, if I applied this to your face now? Like in my video?”

Aziraphale’s body then completely forgot that it was meant to breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale.exe has stopped working.


	9. Endorphins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale attempt some woodland skincare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did somebody order some oblivious Aziraphale...? ;-)

Some kind of sound emerged from Aziraphale’s throat then, but it would be difficult to characterise what it was. Or even what it was _supposed_ to be. Something like, “Ngk,” perhaps. His brain commenced a full system reboot.

“What? Really? _Here_? _Now_?”

Crowley pouted and shrugged his shoulders. “Would you enjoy it?”

“I... I honestly don’t know.”

“Would you like to try?”

“Do you do this sort of thing often? I mean, did you, before...” (more wild gesturing to avoid using the c-word) “...this _situation_? Do you do one-to-one stuff like this? Like, natural wellbeing experiences? But... real?”

That was question 8. Somehow Aziraphale had found himself asking another question off that goddamned forbidden list.

“Why do you ask? Is it because you’re worried I don’t know what I’m doing?" Crowley teased, "Or because you'd feel like I was working when we’re supposed to just be having a fun afternoon out together?”

“Oh, definitely not the first one. It wasn’t the second one either but I’m afraid it is a bit now.”

“Well, you don’t need to worry about that. I’d be doing it because I’d enjoy it, and you can return the favour if you want to?” Crowley suggested with a sweet smile. _That thing you read about consciously overriding your breathing, was there anything in it about how to force yourself to breathe when your brain shuts down?_ “And if it wasn’t that, what was it?”

_It was question 8._

“It was just... something I wanted to ask you. Something I’d thought about. Something I might like.”

“Oh... Well, no, that’s not something I’ve done. I work with groups for that sort of thing.”

“Oh, I see. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Aziraphale clasped his hands together in his lap and squeezed tightly, hanging his head down. Crowley shuffled closer to him. “I’ve made you feel uncomfortable, _I’m_ sorry.”

“No, you haven’t.” Crowley’s gaze flicked down to Aziraphale’s clasped hands, so he released them and pressed his palms to the blanket on either side of him in an attempt to prove Crowley wrong. “I promise. I’m fine. Please do it. I really want you to.”

Crowley raised his eyebrows. “Because you think you’ll actually find it relaxing, not because you think I’ll be offended if you say no?”

“Yes, of course. I’m sure it will be wonderful,” Aziraphale choked out.

“All right,” Crowley murmured softly. Apparently Aziraphale had disguised his lingering uncertainty sufficiently. A desperate desire to dissipate the tension that had settled between them had indeed provided the motivation required to agree to this, along with the knowledge that Aziraphale would never forgive himself if he let his anxiety keep him from this particular experience. Once again it was a case of saying yes and then working out how to handle it afterwards. That hadn’t worked well last time... hopefully this occasion would play out more favourably. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Crowley returned his attention to stirring the mixture in the bowl, and added a drop more water from his flask. Aziraphale rolled up his sleeves and decided that, now that he wasn’t wearing his mask to match with it, he should remove his bow tie. Even in the shade of the trees it was warm, and he really shouldn’t have insisted on wearing it in the first place. He folded it up neatly and pushed it into his pocket with his mask, then undid the top two buttons of his shirt. He was _determined_ to relax, so determined in fact that it made him feel tense, which completely defeated the object. He rolled his eyes and settled himself back onto the blanket, gazing up at the treetops, the _real treetops_ , above him. He let out a long, slow breath.

_This isn’t going to be relaxing, you know._

_I know. I just need to get through it. It might be something nice to think about later after it’s actually happened._

He rolled his head onto the side to watch Crowley. Crowley finished preparing the mixture and glanced up at him. His eyes widened and he froze, his mouth hanging open.

_Oh God, why is he looking at me like that? What have I done wrong?_

Aziraphale tried to work out where Crowley’s attention was directed, and realised it was around his neck, where he had removed his bow tie and unbuttoned his shirt. He instinctively raised a hand to cover it.

_Oh no, I knew I shouldn’t have done that. What must he think of me? He didn’t mean for me to get_ this _comfortable! What do I do now?_

Crowley shook his head slightly, smiled and leaned over Aziraphale. Aziraphale lowered his hand and clenched his fists at his sides. “You ready?”

Aziraphale could only nod slightly in response, and then closed his eyes. In the video, every time he had watched it he had kept his eyes open, looking up at Crowley, who was gazing down at him so fondly and serenely. That wouldn’t have been a good idea for real life.

“It’s going to be strange doing this for real,” Crowley murmured. “I normally just have this _thing_... to be honest it’s kind of like a miniature toilet seat that clips to my camera.”

Aziraphale released some of the tension in his fists and furrowed his brow, opening his eyes to look at Crowley.

“You do realise that’s all I’m going to be able to think about now if I watch that video again?”

Crowley threw his head back and laughed. Aziraphale relaxed his hands and laid his palms on the blanket. They were stinging from where his fingernails had cut into them. Thankfully, the tension in the air between the two of them now seemed to have lifted. Crowley stopped laughing, brushed a tear from his eye and pushed his hair behind his ears.

“Sorry. I’ll try and make it up to you,” he grinned. “Look straight up.”

Aziraphale complied and closed his eyes again. The disadvantage of closing his eyes, of course, was that he wouldn’t know exactly when...

_Oh, God._

His eyes instinctively flashed open when he felt Crowley’s smooth fingertips sweep the mixture across his cheek. Crowley’s gaze flicked upwards to meet his eyes.

“All right?” he asked, withdrawing his hand. Aziraphale nodded, although he wasn’t sure his expression was backing him up. Crowley narrowed his eyes slightly and hesitantly lowered his hand back to Aziraphale’s face, tenderly spreading out the mixture he had just deposited. This was _very_ different from using the VR headset. Aziraphale wasn’t exactly sure if it was relaxing, but it was _something_. What exactly _was_ he feeling?

_Closeness. Connection. Intimacy_ , his brain supplied.

Aziraphale felt cared for. He felt deserving, and ironically and very confusingly, simultaneously felt that he didn’t deserve to feel that way. Why was Crowley doing this for him? What could he possibly be getting out of it? Were there really people out there that were actually just this _nice_?

“It’s quite therapeutic, doing this,” Crowley supplied as if reading his mind. He had spread the mixture over both of Aziraphale’s cheeks and his chin. He then put down the bowl beside them both, using one hand to hold Aziraphale’s hair out of the way while he smoothed the mixture over his forehead.

Various reactions fought for dominance inside Aziraphale, but he found his lips curling upwards even as his stomach did somersaults, earning himself a soft smile from Crowley in return. Crowley lightly ran a fingertip along Aziraphale’s nose, which he scrunched up in response.

Realising that Crowley had now coated his cheeks, chin, forehead and nose with the mixture, Aziraphale’s heart sank at the ridiculous realisation that he had no more face left to cover. His involuntary reactions were certainly telling him that he was enjoying this, even if his head was still spinning.

“There you go, now just relax for a bit, it starts to dry when it’s ready to remove. It might start to feel a little bit tight. If you want me to take it off sooner just let me know.”

“Thank you.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. He heard Crowley shuffling around, and could sense when he lay down beside him. That was something virtual reality could never recreate. Aziraphale didn’t even want to think about how long it had been since anyone had been laying down beside him, because when he started to think about it, it just made him painfully aware of how much of his life he had spent alone. He let a few tears escape his eyes, knowing Crowley wasn’t looking at him right now, and then set the thought aside, trying as hard as possible to enjoy the moment.

After about ten minutes of listening to the birds singing and the sound of his own breathing (he had tried to hear Crowley breathing but couldn’t, probably because Crowley breathed calmly like a normal person), Aziraphale could feel the mask starting to harden on his face.

“Crowley?”

“Mmyeah?” He heard Crowley shuffle beside him and opened his eyes. “Want me to take it off?”

“Yes please.”

Crowley rummaged around in his bag for a moment and then leaned over Aziraphale once again with a cleansing wipe in his hand.

“It’s better to do this with warm water, but since we're in the park...”

“It’s fine, thank you.”

Crowley went through about six wipes getting the mixture off Aziraphale’s face, and had to press quite firmly and rub at it to remove all of it. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation. Once the mask had been removed, Aziraphale’s face was feeling clean and fresh and tingly. He sat up and ran his fingertips over his cheeks.

“Oh... soft.”

“Mmm. Was it relaxing?”

“I enjoyed it,” Aziraphale equivocated.

While he had been lying back and trying to relax, the most frequent thought to invade Aziraphale’s mind had been whether or not to reciprocate what Crowley had just done.

_Crowley’s the one who mentioned it; that means he wants you to do it._

There was no objection forthcoming.

“You said I could do the same for you?”

“Erm... well... yeah, absolutely, if you want to?”

“I do.”

Crowley took a deep breath and gestured to all of the supplies. Of course Crowley was going to expect him to make the mixture himself. Aziraphale plucked a few raspberries from Crowley’s basket and started squishing them into a pulp. He added the clay, then realised he should have started with the leaves so they’d have time to infuse, and then he knocked the flask over and spilled some of the water. He looked up at Crowley sheepishly. Crowley was grinning and raised his eyebrow.

“I’m doing it,” Aziraphale protested.

“I can see that,” Crowley teased. “You’re doing fine, carry on.” He shuffled down and lay back on the blanket. Aziraphale infused the leaves in the water for about a minute, then poured some of it (too much of it) into the bowl with the raspberries. He mixed it together with the pestle, a loud squelching noise emerging from the bowl. Crowley rolled his head onto the side and looked at him with mock terror.

“I’m _doing_ it,” Aziraphale repeated, sure the mixture wasn’t supposed to be this... gloopy. Crowley grinned again and rolled his head back, his eyes closed. Aziraphale coated his fingertips with the mixture. Some of it dripped immediately onto the blanket.

_Oh, it’s definitely not supposed to be this gloopy. Maybe I should add more clay?_

_Maybe you should just get on with it._

When Crowley had spread the mixture on Aziraphale’s forehead, he’d smoothed his hair back with his other hand. Aziraphale desperately wanted to touch Crowley’s hair. He’d _dreamed_ about touching Crowley’s hair. It really did look incredibly soft... but he couldn’t bring himself to actually do it, so he’d just have to be careful. He lowered his fingertips to Crowley’s forehead, and the mixture dribbled down towards his temple.

“Oh! Oh, no! Oh... _fuck_!”

Crowley’s eyes flashed openly widely and he gasped. “Aziraphale!”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I’ve got it in your hair!” Aziraphale cried, forgetting his earlier apprehension and now trying to brush Crowley’s hair out of the way. “Oh God, now I’ve made it worse! Ohhh no, oh you made this seem so easy!”

“Ah, the mark of a truly skilled practitioner,” Crowley grinned.

“No! Careful! Close your mouth! It’s glooping down your cheek... Oh, shit! Oh, Crowley I’m so sorry!”

At that, Crowley raised himself up on his elbows and started laughing hysterically. He touched his hand to his forehead, apparently inspecting the consistency of the mixture, and then completely lost all control of himself. He brought his knees up and bent his head between them, one hand (the one covered in the mixture) clutched over his ribs and the other grasping at the hair on the back of his head. His whole body was trembling as he laughed.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale ventured tentatively. It had the opposite effect than Aziraphale had intended, serving to make Crowley laugh even harder. He was trying to force in deep breaths, but when he tried he just ended up spluttering and gasping.

“No.... don’t... please...” Crowley raised his palm up to Aziraphale.

“Crowley, I’m so sorry!”

“Shhh... I.... no... I can’t... hang on...” Crowley threw himself back so he was lying on the blanket, but was overcome with another wave of laugher and rolled onto his side, clutching his knees to his chest. Tears were running down his cheeks and mixing with the slowly-drying mixture that had dribbled down onto them.

What was it that Crowley had said? That when you experience an intense emotion your body tries to modulate it with its opposite? Did he really find Aziraphale’s attempts at doing this so outrageously hilarious that his body was making him cry to force him to calm down? It was that thought, surprisingly, that made Aziraphale laugh for a while too.

Crowley was still chuckling when he finally sat back up. “I’m fine... I’m fine. Oh, fuck. Oh God, you said that... I can’t believe you actually...”

Another fit of laughter consumed him. Aziraphale narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t really sure what he could do to try to put an end to this, so he just watched Crowley, once again rolling around on the blanket, now clutching both arms across his diaphragm.

“Oh... it hurts. It hurts so much.”

“Then _stop laughing_.”

Once again, Aziraphale’s attempts to make him stop only made Crowley laugh harder.

“Stop... making it... worse,” Crowley gasped.

“I’m going for a walk, I’ll come back in a little while.”

That worked. Crowley shot back up into a seated position and reached his hand out towards Aziraphale.

“No, please, don’t go. I’m fine, I’m sorry. I’m fine. That was just... Wow.” Crowley drew in a deep, shuddering breath.

“Indeed.” Aziraphale held out the packet of wipes towards Crowley. “Did _you_ find that relaxing?”

_Oh no..._ That set Crowley off again, although Aziraphale was touched by how much he could tell Crowley was trying to fight it. Crowley dropped his head between his knees again and tried to control his breathing.

“You’re doing it on purpose,” Crowley mumbled from between his knees.

“I assure you I am not!”

Crowley lifted his head and threw it back, looking up at the treetops, reaching up to brush the tears away from his eyes. “Oh, I feel amazing!”

“Yes, well, that will be all the endorphins.”

“Thank you for my endorphins,” Crowley smiled. Aziraphale’s eyebrows knitted together and he shook his head. Crowley picked up the wipes and removed the small amount of mixture Aziraphale had applied from his forehead and cheeks. “Really, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Aziraphale replied petulantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since we can't have a real natural wellbeing practitioner Crowley, here's the link to Michael Sheen telling you everything's going to be ok for a whole minute! https://twitter.com/reliablecwm/status/1220632006813310976


	10. Question 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley walks Aziraphale home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry guys, this chapter gets quite sad! :-(

When Crowley slung his bag over his shoulder and started retracing their steps out of the small wooded area, he seemed to be glowing.

“Well, that was fun,” he grinned as they stepped back onto the path. Aziraphale narrowed his eyes.

“Hmm, yes, fun for you. Look at the state of you! It’s still in your hair and you got it on your vest when you were laughing,” Aziraphale grumbled, pointing an accusing finger in the general direction of Crowley’s stomach, “and now you’ll never get that stain out.”

“It’ll be fine,” Crowley tried to reassure him with a shrug. “I work outdoors, angel, I’m a miracle worker when it comes to getting stains out. Come on.”

Aziraphale hung back slightly and let Crowley walk ahead of him. He was practically sauntering, his hips swaying and the willow basket along with them. Crowley stopped and turned back to Aziraphale, who rushed to catch up with him.

“All right?”

“You seem _relaxed_ ,” Aziraphale observed.

“I am!” Crowley beamed. “Aren’t you?”

Aziraphale paused to consider it for a moment. He searched his body for the tell-tale signs of anxiety. They were there, they were almost _always_ there, but they were relatively mild. Although he was disappointed and frustrated that he hadn’t been able to give Crowley a relaxing woodland skincare experience in the way he had intended (which had also meant he had only been able touch Crowley very briefly, when he had spent his own relaxation time contemplating what it would be like), he had secretly enjoyed watching Crowley roll around on the blanket in a fit of hysterical laughter. It was nice to know he could elicit such an intense _pleasant_ reaction in someone.

“I suppose I am,” he ventured.

“I’ll take it,” Crowley teased. “We should put our masks back on before we get back to the main path.”

Aziraphale’s anxiety then started to crawl its way back out of its hiding place. Oh well, it was nice while it lasted. He almost wanted to say goodbye to Crowley now, while he could still see his face. At least he’d left his sunglasses off; they were still hooked over the front of his vest. Aziraphale nodded and they both fixed their masks back on while they walked. Aziraphale had felt his bow tie in his pocket when he’d reached in to retrieve his mask, but decided to leave it off. The sun was still shining brightly, and he really did feel more comfortable since he’d removed it.

“Can I walk you home?” Crowley murmured quietly. “I’d like to see your bookshop.”

The anxiety crept up another notch, and now Aziraphale was definitely _not_ relaxed, but he wasn’t completely sure why. His instincts were telling him that he _needed_ to be anxious, and that in fact he needed to be much more anxious than he was. That it wasn’t safe not to be. The anxiety was protection. Without it, he might miss something threatening.

But Crowley wasn’t a threat, was he?

_Everyone is a threat._

_Oh, that’s absurd and completely horrible. There’s only so far I’m prepared to go. I can’t live like that._

_Everyone has an agenda._

_What if his agenda is just that he wants company? And that he enjoys being nice to people?_

_What if that’s true but it’s only part of it?_

_Why am I talking to myself when I could be talking to Crowley? Oh no! I haven’t actually answered him!_

Apparently the silence had indeed gone on for longer than was reasonable, because Crowley was speaking again.

“Forget I said anything, sorry, I didn’t mean to...”

“No, it’s fine! Yes, of course! Come and see my bookshop,” Aziraphale managed with an uncertain smile, which remained hidden behind his mask.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. You’re in my bubble,” Aziraphale smiled more sincerely, ensuring this time for Crowley’s benefit that it reached his eyes.

The two of them walked side-by-side back to Soho, neither of them really saying much. They occasionally commented on people’s interesting mask designs and signs in the windows of cafes and restaurants about their planned reopening, but Aziraphale was struggling to concentrate.

He was definitely experiencing that special breed of anxiety (just like the plants in one of Crowley’s ‘similar species’ foraging videos, they all had their subtle distinguishing features if you knew what to look for) that indicated a potential threat, but he couldn’t rationalise it. His mind was there, once again, to speculate on the cause.

_Do you think maybe he was lying about not having had contact with anyone? You spent the whole afternoon with him with your masks off!_

_No, because if that were true he wouldn’t be so desperate for company that he’d choose to spend time with me._

_Point taken. What if it’s a money thing? He’s trying to... I don’t know, get you to give him lots of money?_

_How?_

_Well, I don’t know. He did ask about how your business was doing when you spoke on Zoom._

_Yes, he did, and I hardly think I gave him the impression that I’m a millionaire._

_Yes, true... What if he’s... what if he’s attracted to you?_

_Oh well now that’s just ridiculous. Right? Isn’t it?_

_He called you angel._

_Oh, you noticed that?_

_That is quite possibly the most ridiculous thing you have ever said to yourself. You think you noticed but I didn’t?_

_I will concede that point, but that isn’t what’s happening here. Is it? Is it? Please tell me that’s not what’s happening here._

_...._

_Please?_

_...._

_PLEASE?_

_...._

_Oh, not that! Please not that! It can’t be that! It literally cannot be that! I’m the opposite of physically attractive and he barely knows me. It’s ok, it’s not that. It’s not that. It’s ok. I need to calm down. This is just a complete misfire of my nervous system; God knows I’ve been through enough of them by now. I just need to breathe and keep walking. I’m nearly home now._

_Maybe this all stems from it just being that long since anyone has actually wanted to be your friend. No wonder you’re so screwed up._

Aziraphale pushed all of the air out of his lungs and sucked in more to replace it. _That’s actually helpful, thank you._

_You’re welcome. Get your keys out._

“Well, here we are,” Aziraphale croaked as they rounded the corner and arrived at his bookshop. His eyelids were starting to feel heavy and his shoulders were slumped. He took another deep breath. He could mask this, he knew he could. He just had to concentrate.

“Oh, this place looks incredible!”

“It’s been here a long time. I’ve had it about twenty years now, but it’s been around since the 1800s.”

_I like him. I really like him. I want to be his friend. I can have that, can’t I? I can be his friend?_

“Would you like to see inside?”

Crowley nodded, so Aziraphale opened the door and gestured for Crowley to enter ahead of him. He was now quite pleased that he’d frantically cleaned the bookshop earlier in an attempt to calm down. He certainly hadn’t been anticipating _this_. They both pulled their masks off as soon as they stepped inside, Aziraphale placing his in its usual spot next to the door. Crowley placed his basket down on the floor.

“Oh wow this place is really fantastic! I can’t believe I didn’t know this was here! It’s really... peaceful. It would actually make a good location for a relaxation video. POV, friendly bookshop owner reads you a story,” Crowley chuckled, spreading his arms out wide like an announcer on a stage.

_Is that why he wanted to come here?_

_Did he just call you friendly?_

_Am I friendly? Have I been_ too _friendly?_

“It’s ok, I’m joking,” Crowley soothed. Apparently Aziraphale’s anxiety was _showing_ and Crowley had detected it. He scanned his body, finding his hands clenched together in front of him. That might be it. He dropped them to his sides for a moment and then re-clasped them behind his back out of Crowley’s view, continuing to squeeze his fingers together so hard that they hurt. Crowley sighed. “Well, thanks for letting me see the place. I’d better leave you to it,” he murmured.

“Oh, all right.”

Crowley started heading back towards the door. “Thanks for today,” he said quietly. “Can I give you my number? Maybe we can sort out another time to... bubble? If you ever want to, I mean. We don’t have to.”

Aziraphale’s control was slipping away from him. He really didn’t know _what_ he wanted.

_This is the whole point of The Strategy, when you hide yourself away you don’t have to endure things like this. You really should have known better. How many times do you have to force yourself to try before you actually learn your lesson? And you know what will happen, don’t you? Your body will punish you. It will respond to the realisation that the level of anxiety it produced wasn’t enough to deter you, and it’ll make it even worse next time. You can’t say you’re content with your life as it is and then go and do something like this._

_It hurts! My heart hurts so much. I just wanted a friend. Is that really so bad?_

“Aziraphale?”

“Yes. You can give me your number.”

Crowley smiled and held his hand out towards Aziraphale, his palm facing up. Aziraphale’s eyes widened and he stared at Crowley’s hand uncertainly.

_I can’t live like this. I can’t. I need to feel what I felt today, otherwise I don’t even know if I’ll ever really be alive._

Crowley straightened his arm a little more, bringing his inviting palm closer to Aziraphale.

_I should just take his hand. I should just do it._

Aziraphale tentatively reached out towards Crowley’s outstretched hand, but Crowley immediately snatched it away.

“Your phone?” Crowley spluttered. “Do you have your phone? For me to put my number in?”

“Oh! Oh...” _Oh, God, how could I have done that? How could I have possibly thought that’s what he meant for me to do?_ “I’m so sorry.”

Aziraphale felt like he now understood the meaning of the phrase ‘to die a little inside’. He even felt exactly which part of him had died; it was a cluster of cells just below his heart. They cried out in pain as their lives were extinguished and sank down into his gut to be digested.

“S’ok,” Crowley croaked.

“Here you go.” He reached into his pocket and then held his phone out towards Crowley. His fingers were trembling, and there it was again, that pounding in his chest, that tightening of his throat, the prick of tears in his eyes. Unexpectedly, though, Crowley’s demeanour shifted and he grinned.

“You’re joking? _That’s_ your phone?”

“There’s nothing wrong with my phone,” Aziraphale responded defensively, clutching it back towards him and actually pressing it into his chest to try to settle both the trembling of his fingers and the pounding of his heart.

“No, no, not at all. When 2004 calls asking for it back though you will be sure to warn them about the pandemic, won’t you? Even if they can’t stop it maybe they can buy some shares in toilet paper or hand sanitiser or something.”

Aziraphale chuckled despite himself. Half a sob emerged with it.

_You’re supposed to be masking, remember?_

Aziraphale attempted to playfully glare at Crowley as he handed his phone over. He wasn’t sure how well his attempts at masking would actually work on a man who had been able to deduce he was having a panic attack pretty quickly when he couldn’t even see him, but it was worth a go. Besides, Crowley didn’t seem quite as perceptive today.

Aziraphale watched Crowley enter his number into his phone. Maintaining the mask was becoming exhausting. He felt like he could collapse at any moment. But Crowley had just teased him, and it wasn’t the first time that had happened today, and a part of Aziraphale enjoyed it and wanted more of it.

_Can’t I be whoever I want to be? I want to be the person who is friends with Crowley, and he teases me, and I tease him back, and I make him laugh, and I make his body release endorphins._

“Oh no...” Crowley began, passing Aziraphale’s archaic Nokia back to him. “Tell me you didn’t watch my 360 video on a _computer_?”

“Err... no, I didn’t. I borrowed...” Aziraphale was grateful for the excuse to step away from Crowley for a moment, and retrieved the VR headset from his desk, where it was waiting for Adam to collect it next time he came to the bookshop. Knowing he was going to see Crowley for real, Aziraphale had decided that morning that it was time to return it. He now thought he might change his mind, genuinely unsure whether he would ever actually see Crowley again. His blood, his nerves, his muscles, they were all still screaming _THREAT_. He held the headset out for Crowley to see.

“Oh, nice! You know how to use _that_ but you don’t have a smartphone?”

_He’s still teasing me. He’s being friendly. Why don’t I know how to do this? How am I in my forties and I don’t know how to do this?_

_Well, maybe it would be fine if you truly only liked him as a friend. Face it, that crush hasn’t gone anywhere just because you’ve started to get to know him in real life._

“I was motivated,” Aziraphale mumbled, placing the headset down on a table beside him.

“The real thing is better though, hmm?” Crowley asked with a cheeky grin. Aziraphale forced a small smile.

_I wish he would just leave._

_I don’t want him to leave._

“What’s wrong, Aziraphale?” Crowley asked softly. Aziraphale vigorously shook his head.

“Please don’t,” he begged, the tears now fully welling up in his eyes. Aziraphale hung his head and pressed his palms to his face. “Please help me!”

“Just keep breathing, Aziraphale. It’ll pass soon. You did so well today, you did so much. It’s going to be fine.” Crowley stepped close to him. “Oh, Aziraphale... May I hug you? _Please_ may I hug you?”

_Question 10: Please will you hold me in your arms for real, just one time?_

With every intention that it really would be just one time, Aziraphale nodded. Crowley’s rucksack dropped to the floor with a thud and he reached out to him. Tears were streaming down Aziraphale’s face as Crowley wrapped his arms around him and pulled him tightly against him. Aziraphale held on so tightly that he was probably causing Crowley pain, but no amount of willpower could force his muscles to relax. Crowley was soothingly running his hands up and down his back, and it felt so completely incredible that for a moment Aziraphale thought it could all be worth it, enduring this much suffering if it resulted in receiving affection like this.

They stood there for several minutes, Aziraphale’s breathing gradually coming back under control and his grip on Crowley starting to loosen. Aziraphale felt like he was becoming conscious again, as though he had been sleepwalking. Crowley was giving no indication that he intended to move away, his hands just continued to work their way up and down in a perfect rhythm.

Aziraphale moved his hands from Crowley’s shoulder blades and settled them on his upper arms, taking a small step back, but still standing close. Crowley dropped his hands to Aziraphale’s elbows.

“Thank you. I’m so sorry. I am so, _so_ sorry.” Crowley shook his head.

“Don’t be.”

Aziraphale tightened his grip on Crowley’s arms and bowed his head, taking a few long, deep breaths.

“Do you feel better?”

“I feel exhausted.”

“That’s understandable. Do you want me to stay? Or I can go?”

“I just want to go to bed.”

“All right.” Crowley lowered his hands and took a step back from Aziraphale, taking him closer to the front door. Aziraphale closed the distance between them again and wrapped his arms around Crowley one more time. That hug had been a blur. He wanted a proper one, one he would be able to remember after Crowley walked out that door and he never saw him again. He held onto Crowley more gently this time, letting himself run his own hands over his back. He leaned his face into Crowley’s neck.

“The real thing is _perfect_ ,” he whispered against his skin. Crowley leaned his head back and looked down at Aziraphale, who looked up to meet his eyes. “Do you know that? Do you know how perfect you are?”

_Question 7._

“I...” Crowley began, but never finished that thought. He just leaned his head against Aziraphale’s and they rocked gently from side to side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now *I* need a hug but I'm self-isolating! :,-(
> 
> Thank you all so much for your lovely comments on this story, I really appreciate them! <3


	11. Escaping from the rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale struggles to decide what to do about Crowley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is really struggling here, sorry guys but it does get better in the second half of the chapter! We start to see a little bit more of what's going on his head (apologies for the Gabriel bit at the beginning, none of us want to be picturing that!), which we'll get into more in a future chapter.

After Crowley left, Aziraphale indeed went straight to bed. Unsure how he’d even had the strength to climb the stairs to the flat above the bookshop, he collapsed down onto the bed without even getting undressed. His mind was screaming so many different thoughts at him that they all mingled into a white noise that accompanied him into his dreams.

He dreamt of Gabriel holding him, running his hands down his chest and then over his hips... They were in Gabriel’s flat on the sofa, but then they were in the woodland, lying on the blanket, and Gabriel morphed into Crowley, but his hands were still on Aziraphale’s hips... and Aziraphale woke up trembling and gasping for breath. He sat up in bed and clutched his arms protectively around himself. He reached over for the clock on his bedside table. It was nearly midnight; he’d slept through the entire evening.

Aziraphale forced himself out of bed and changed into his pyjamas. His stomach rumbled, so he shoved his feet into his slippers and padded downstairs to the kitchen, where he made a cup of tea and scooped up a homemade almond slice onto a napkin. He sat down at his kitchen table and picked up the list of questions he had written down to ask Crowley. He crossed out all the ones that had been asked. Numbers 2 and (sort of) 10 had ended up being asked by Crowley.

  1. ~~What do you find are the best techniques for helping someone to manage anxiety?~~
  2. ~~Have you had any contact with anyone in the past 14 days, and if not, do you want to go foraging together?~~
  3. ~~Do you have any other skincare recipes I could try using things I can forage for?~~
  4. When you record your POV videos, how much of that is acting? Are you really like that in real life?
  5. ~~Who normally operates the camera? What’s their relationship to you?~~
  6. ~~Did you think I was rude when I came to your Zoom session?~~
  7. ~~Do you know how perfect you are?~~
  8. ~~When this situation is over, will you be running one-to-one sessions face-to-face? Do you run any natural wellbeing ones?~~
  9. Why am I like this?
  10. ~~Please will you hold me in your arms for real, just one time?~~



He was amazed to see that only two questions remained, and he actually ended up drawing a wiggly line through question 4. He no longer needed to ask that question; he had his answer. Crowley was completely lovely in real life, just as he was in his videos.

That left question 9.

_Why am I like this?_ Aziraphale asked himself. Maybe that was less a question for Crowley and more a question for someone _qualified_ , as Crowley had suggested. The thought of talking about all of his horrible thoughts and stupid mistakes and facing the judgement of someone else really didn’t appeal to him, however, so he would just have to figure out what to do on his own.

Of course, the uncertainty about what to do resulted in the default action: doing nothing. Aziraphale didn’t call or text Crowley. In fact, Aziraphale returned the VR headset to Adam as planned and stopped watching his videos. He even considered cancelling his membership to Eden’s Treasures, but didn’t want Crowley to lose out after he had been so patient and kind.

Days turned into weeks, and more shops starting re-opening in Soho. Aziraphale kept the bookshop closed. He started receiving a few emails asking when he would be re-opening. Online sales had dramatically declined, and for the few he did receive, he felt guilty asking Adam to take them to the Post Office, knowing he had no good reason not to just re-open the shop, and wished he could take down the website.

He received his first order from the Farm2Fork vegetable box company. Crowley was right, it did actually include a free cabbage, amongst other things. Aziraphale prepared a stir fry, and viciously chopped the cabbage into hundreds of tiny pieces to work out some of his anguish.

He kept dreaming about Gabriel. His mind was clearly trying to tell him that it had settled on the definitive meaning of the THREAT klaxons that had been going off in Crowley’s presence. The more Aziraphale thought about it, the more he forced himself to acknowledge what his subconscious mind had picked up on in the way that Crowley looked at him. It was, _incomprehensibly_ , but, still, it _was_ , actually possible that Crowley was attracted to him, and so Aziraphale had needed to run and hide.

It was late one evening at the beginning of August when Aziraphale was lying in bed, tossing and turning, trying to quiet his mind (which had been so much more difficult since he had stopped watching Crowley’s videos), when he actually sat right up in bed and addressed his empty bedroom out loud.

“What am I _actually_ anxious about? Can anyone tell me what _the fuck_ I am actually anxious about?” he screamed. “Seriously, remind me, why don’t I want to see him again? What actually _happened_?”

_Go on, justify it to me. What actually happened?_

_What about when he held out his hand to take your phone and you thought he wanted to hold your hand?_

A rush of embarrassment washed over him, but Aziraphale shook his head.

_Not good enough. What else?_

_You told him he was perfect._

_Oh, I know, that was bad. I was caught up in the moment. And he is perfect._

_I think he’s attracted to you._

_And what if he is?_

_He might act on it?_

_I think that’s unlikely, but if he does, I can tell him I’m not interested._

_But you are interested._

_I’m attracted to him, and I like him, and I care about him, yes, but that’s not the same thing. Yes, fine, in an ideal world I would be interested but I don’t want to go down that road. We’ve been through this. You can stop with all the Gabriel dreams because we have already been through this and there’s no point going over it again! Even if he is attracted to me, and I am only conceding that it’s a remote possibility, he wouldn’t want to be with me once he knew that sex was permanently off the table. How could he? It’s better not to let the conversation even get that far. And, besides, there will be no conversation, because that will not happen, he was probably just being friendly and I’m overreacting. You haven’t actually given me any good reason why I shouldn’t be friends with him. If it’s to protect me from feeling anxiety, well, I’ve got news for you..._

“It's not working!” he bellowed. Aziraphale shuffled down and flopped his head back onto the pillow. He remembered how wonderful that afternoon with Crowley had been. That was the thing with anxiety, it was certainly good at spoiling the moment, but it didn’t always attach itself firmly to the _memories_. Its purpose was to get you out of a dangerous situation, but once that situation was over, sometimes its venomous grasp was released.

Aziraphale closed his eyes and recalled the feeling of Crowley tenderly spreading the face mask mixture over his face, the scent of raspberries entering his nostrils. He remembered the sweet sound of Crowley’s laughter. He remembered the warmth and comfort of being held in his arms.

“Do I _want_ to see him again? _Should_ I see him again?”

It was evident that Aziraphale desperately needed a friend. Of course, deciding to pursue a friendship with Crowley wouldn’t actually solve the current problem of needing a friend to talk to _about_ Crowley.

_Is it still safe to see him, physically? What if he’s started going out and spending time with other people? Is it safe mentally? Emotionally? I miss him._

“It already hurts, and if it’s going to hurt either way then to hell with it. I want to see him,” Aziraphale concluded to his invisible audience. He clambered out of bed, padded barefoot down to the bookshop and picked up his mobile phone from the table beside the sofa in the back room. He sat down and curled his legs up beneath him. He started typing a new message into his phone.

**Hello, Crowley. This is Aziraphale. I apologise for not getting in touch sooner. I haven’t been very well, I’m afraid. With my anxiety, I mean, not the virus, of course. I still haven’t seen anyone or been anywhere. Are we still a bubble?**

Aziraphale sent the message and plodded back up the stairs to bed. He took his phone with him, just in case, and clutched his hand around it under the blankets. His brain felt like it was buzzing, there was no way he would be able to sleep soon. A few minutes later, his phone vibrated in his hand, startling him into releasing it. He then fumbled around under the covers to retrieve it again.

**Hey, good to hear from you. Sorry you’ve been struggling, I hope you’re feeling better now. I still haven’t been anywhere either. We can be a bubble for as long as you want to be.**

Aziraphale found himself laughing softly with relief, touching his fingertips to his cheeks to feel the pull of his muscles beneath them. It had been a while since he had smiled and the sensation felt unfamiliar.

**Thank you, Crowley, and thank you for being so kind when you were in my bookshop. I really do appreciate it. It’s all been a bit overwhelming, but I think I might be ready to try going outside again. Would you like to go somewhere together?**

Yes, his heart was racing when he sent the message, but it had been racing anyway. Some things had to be worth the risk, right? He would just be cautious, more guarded. He wouldn’t do anything to make Crowley think he wanted to be anything more than friends.

**You’re sweet but you know you don’t need to thank me. I’m glad you’re doing better. Yes, I’d love that, thank you. How about my secret woodland? The one with the stream that I use for filming? It’s very peaceful and no one else will be there.**

* * *

Crowley had knocked on the door to the bookshop to let him know he had arrived, and Aziraphale, who had been waiting beside the door with his mask already in place, had opened the door immediately. Crowley tilted his head and looked at him, and although Aziraphale had been feeling many things in that moment, the overwhelming winner in the contest for emotional dominance was joy.

Crowley had driven them (in what turned out to be an absolutely stunning vintage car) to a private woodland. Crowley had explained that it was owned by the company Anathema was training with, and perhaps Aziraphale had looked unsettled, because he had gone on to mention that he had permission to be there.

When they arrived and stepped out of the car, the wind was howling all around them, and the branches of the trees were swaying ominously.

“Typical school holiday weather,” Crowley shrugged. He threw his bag over his shoulder, making his way to the gate that opened into the woods and unlocking it. Aziraphale hurried after him. The path (made of nothing but compacted soil weaving in between the gaps between the trees) was narrow, so as they progressed towards the stream, Aziraphale walked behind Crowley, just like in the videos. He found it strange that he recognised the place so well, having never actually been there.

When they arrived at the stream, Crowley crouched down and unzipped his bag, pulling out his blanket and spreading it over the ground, struggling to get it to behave in the wind. He sat cross-legged on top of it, and Aziraphale joined him, their bodies holding it down in place.

They sat quietly for a while, Aziraphale scanning his eyes around the scene, testing himself on the identification of trees and looking for birds or squirrels, but the wildlife all seemed to have hunkered down. They were struck by a powerful gust of wind, and Aziraphale shivered.

“You sure you want to do this? Maybe we should give up?” Crowley suggested.

“No. I’m going to relax,” Aziraphale replied firmly, shuffling so that he was lying down on the blanket, smiling defiantly at Crowley.

Crowley bit his bottom lip and shook his head. “Well, if you’re so determined, here, I brought another blanket just in case.” Crowley reached into his bag and retrieved a folded tartan blanket. He opened it up and moved as if to lay it over Aziraphale, who responded by seizing it from him and laying it over himself. The wind kept catching it, so Crowley leaned over Aziraphale and placed his bag on top of it to hold it down on one side. Aziraphale held the rest down by keeping his arms on top of it. He was still shivering, but inexplicably, Crowley was removing his shoes.

“Here, so you can put your arms under it.” Crowley put his shoes down on the other side of the blanket, and they succeeded in holding it in place.

“Oh... thank you,” Aziraphale smiled hesitantly and then rolled his head back to watch the treetops swaying in the wind. After a few minutes, he heard the sound of Crowley zipping his fleece jacket all the way up to his chin. Aziraphale tilted his head to look at him. He was hunched over, clutching his arms around himself.

“Do you want the blanket?” Aziraphale offered.

“No it’s fine, you look pretty cosy under there. Unless you want to share it?”

“No, no, you should take it. Please. It’s your blanket.” Aziraphale extracted his arms from under the blanket and moved to lift Crowley’s bag up from the side, but Crowley held out a hand to stop him.

“No, I’m fine, really. I’m used to it; I get outside in all weathers when I run my foraging courses.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Now I thought you were going to relax? Get to it,” Crowley teased.

Aziraphale rolled onto his other side, facing away from the wind, and incidentally, Crowley, and shuffled down so that the blanket was pulled up tight under his chin. The ground was hard and bumpy, not at all like the illusion created when he’d been lying on his bed with the VR headset on pretending to be in this very woodland. The tartan blanket was a little itchy, but it protected him from the worst of the wind, although he could still feel it ruffling his hair. The blanket smelt like it had been near to a fire on its last outing. A campfire, perhaps, Aziraphale wondered, contemplating whether he would ever toast marshmallows over a fire with Crowley in real life.

All of the birds had fallen silent, perturbed by the wind, so Aziraphale focused on the sounds of the tree branches creaking and the wind whooshing through the leaves. The warmth in his body contrasted with the cool air on his face, and somehow the combination of stimuli was strangely soporific, and he felt as though he were sinking pleasantly into the ground.

When Aziraphale awoke, the first thing he became aware of was Crowley’s hand on his shoulder. There was a moment, a completely blissful moment, before he became fully awake, when there were no apprehensions, no klaxons, no strategies, and he was free to respond in accordance with his instincts. Aziraphale rolled his head over to look up at Crowley.

“Hey...” he breathed, flashing a sleepy smile in Crowley’s direction. Crowley licked his lips and smiled widely in return.

“Hey, yourself,” he murmured softly, and began rubbing his thumb tenderly over Aziraphale’s shoulder. The blanket must have slipped down to expose it while he’d been sleeping. “I’m sorry to wake you, but I’m pretty sure it’s about to rain.”

The moment of bliss ended. Aziraphale flicked his eyes away from Crowley’s face and stared at the hand on his shoulder with narrowed eyes. Crowley immediately retracted it, and Aziraphale’s lips parted involuntarily. His skin was tingling, and he squeezed his eyes shut trying to block out the regret that rushed through him. Then he reminded himself that the current strategy involved deterring Crowley for doing anything like that, so he had actually done the right thing. Then he realised how he’d looked at Crowley when he’d woken up, before he’d remembered about the strategy, and just as it should be, his mind was back to spinning itself in circles. He pulled the tartan blanket up over his head, sending Crowley’s shoes and bag rolling off it, and groaned loudly. Crowley laughed.

“I’m sorry, you looked ever so peaceful too but it’s getting very dark very fast, I really think we should head back to the car.”

“Oh, all right,” Aziraphale grumbled from under the blanket, reluctantly pulling it back over his head, taking no care not to ruffle up his hair. Crowley bit his bottom lip and raised his hand slightly towards Aziraphale, but then winced and pulled it back, turning his attention to putting his shoes back on.

_Good. It’s working_ , Aziraphale thought, with a sinking sensation in his stomach that was the opposite of anything ‘good’.

Aziraphale folded up the tartan blanket as neatly as he could while working against the wind and placed it next to Crowley. Crowley reached over and grabbed his rucksack and Aziraphale rose from the other blanket that they had been sitting on to allow Crowley to pack it away.

_You fell asleep next to him._

_I know. I can’t believe I felt relaxed enough to fall asleep next to him._

_That isn’t a good thing! You should be concerned. He could have done anything. He could have got up and driven away and left you here._

_Oh, stop being ridiculous, he wouldn’t do that. Would anybody actually do that?_

“Right, let’s go,” Crowley announced, making strides towards the slope they had descended to reach the stream. A crackle of thunder burst through the air. They looked at each other, eyes wide, as the rain started to fall. “Shit! Come on!”

Crowley elegantly leapt over tree roots and uneven ground, dodging around the prickly leaves of the holly bushes, followed somewhat more reluctantly by Aziraphale, who was less concerned with getting wet than he was with slipping or tripping and falling over. By the time they made it back to the car and slammed the doors closed behind them, they were both gasping for breath and soaking wet.

Crowley started laughing. Aziraphale leaned back into the seat and added another item to a mental list he had begun entitled ‘things I have imagined doing with Crowley that I have now actually done with him in real life’: _escaping from a rain storm_. It joined _foraging in the park_ , _having a picnic_ , _having a face mask applied under the treetops_ , _relaxing by the stream in the woodland_ (which had been added just before he fell asleep) and _having Crowley’s arms wrapped around me_.

“I told you it was going to rain.”

“Yes, you did.”

Crowley reached into the backseat and extracted two towels, passing one to Aziraphale and using the other to squeeze some of the moisture from his hair, just as he had in the campfire video.

“You keep towels in your car? Are you always this prepared?”

“I’m British, Aziraphale. Does anyone in this country not keep towels in their car?”

“I’d never thought about it.” Aziraphale wondered, if he’d finished learning how to drive, would he have thought to keep a towel in his car?

Crowley stripped off his wet jacket with a grimace and threw it onto the backseat. He continued drying himself as best he could for a moment before starting the engine. Aziraphale took off his own jacket and draped it over his knees, rubbing the towel over his hair and neck before draping it over his shoulders.

Silence fell between them, Aziraphale listening to the rhythmic beating of the raindrops on the windscreen and the roof, while his thoughts became louder and more demanding of his attention.

_He asked to share the blanket with you._

_I should have said yes._

_Don’t you dare! You have a strategy._

_Well, don’t bring it up then_ , Aziraphale thought back defiantly. He found himself considering for far too long what might have happened if he had said yes to Crowley’s suggestion. Maybe it was reckless, like going out into a woodland without checking whether thunderstorms were forecast, but maybe there was freedom to be found in recklessness. He just wasn’t quite sure whether freedom was something he actually wanted.


	12. Crumble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale gets caught in a web of overthinking. He and Crowley enjoy another foraging trip to St James's Park but Aziraphale struggles to maintain his new strategy.

After their trip to the woods, Crowley had dropped Aziraphale off at the bookshop and they had said goodbye, but with neither of them suggesting to meet again soon.

Aziraphale’s clothes had barely dried out at all, so he stripped off, put on his dressing gown and ran a bath. Afterwards, he curled up on the sofa in his pyjamas although it was still only early evening, pulling a blanket over his lap and clutching a cup of hot cocoa to his chest. He really didn’t mind the weather being like this in August.

Aziraphale opened the lid of his laptop and navigated to Eden’s Treasures. He had some catching up to do.

Crowley truly knew some exceptionally isolated places to go during a pandemic. He had recorded another 360 video, this one on the beach he had visited for seaweed foraging. Without the VR headset, Aziraphale had to use the arrow keys on the laptop to navigate, looking all around at the seagulls in the sky, the waves lapping at his feet, the vast expanse of sand and the cliffs behind him. This was definitely somewhere he would like to actually visit sometime.

Crowley had also recorded some tutorials about making homemade skincare with foraged ingredients, uploaded a guide to identifying late summer butterflies, and Aziraphale was now watching a video of Crowley sat underneath a tree talking through some new mindfulness exercises. Aziraphale tried to follow along with them.

When the video ended, Aziraphale looked up and stared at the wall opposite him.

“It’s quiet,” he murmured, narrowing his eyes. He couldn’t hear the constant stream of thoughts in his mind. It was pleasantly eerie. He touched his fingertips to his neck when he realised he couldn’t feel his heart beating either.

“You are _beyond_ perfect,” he whispered, stroking Crowley’s image in one of the thumbnails on the screen. A few minutes later he could feel his heart beating again, and his mind was reminding him that he still needed to work out what to do about reopening the bookshop, but it had been a lovely respite for a little while there.

Aziraphale didn’t go to bed until he had worked his way through all of the content Crowley had uploaded over the past few weeks. The new videos were all incredible, but they provided no inspiration for what he what he wanted to do next time he met Crowley, because he already _knew_ what he wanted to do next time he met Crowley. He wanted to go right back to the beginning. He’d been thinking about it while soaking in the tub earlier, that first video of Crowley’s that he’d watched back in April as he lay in the bath, where he had foraged for nuts and apples and berries and then baked a crumble. It was nearly the right time of year for that. It was definitely what he wanted to do.

He would have to wait a few weeks for the fruits to ripen, but that was no bad thing. He couldn’t seem too eager by contacting Crowley too soon, after all, the _strategy_ was still in place. Crowley didn’t contact him either. His mind see-sawed between _because he’s not bothered about seeing you_ and _because he doesn’t want to seem bothered about seeing you_ , with no real change to his level of anxiety with each pivot.

_I asked him last time, maybe I should wait for him to ask me?_

_After the way you’ve panicked about stuff in front of him there’s no way you can expect him to actually do that._

_Hmm... I suppose that’s reasonable._

A week before the end of August, two important things had happened. Firstly, Aziraphale had reopened the bookshop. Adam and his friend Pepper had installed a Perspex screen between the till and the shop so that he wouldn’t really come into contact with anyone, and he’d introduced a two person limit in the shop at any given time to protect his customers. Cleaning everything so thoroughly everyday was getting a bit wearing, and the first day had been emotionally draining, but once he settled into it, he was actually starting to appreciate the short snippets of conversation he engaged in through the screen.

Secondly, he had sent a message to Crowley.

**Hello Crowley, how are you? I was wondering whether you would want to go foraging with me? I watched your video where you made the crumble with apples and blackberries, they will be ripe soon won’t they? I have been doing rather a lot of baking these past few months and it would be nice to try something different. I must tell you though that I have just reopened the shop, so I will be having some contact with other people. Only briefly, and through a Perspex screen, but I will understand if you are not comfortable with meeting me now.**

As soon as he’d sent the message he had realised he should have asked Crowley if he wanted to go somewhere sooner. It would have been too early for the blackberries and apples but they could have done something else. What if Crowley said no? What if he burst their bubble? Who knew how long it would be before he could see him again.

As it turned out, and as was so often the case, Aziraphale needn’t have worried.

**Hi Aziraphale! I’m great thank you, how are you feeling about the shop being open again? I would love to go foraging with you. You’re in luck actually this year has been great for the apples they’ll be ripe in another week. Do you close on Sundays? We could go then? I’m not worried, I’m sure you’ve been taking every precaution. I still haven’t seen anyone so all good there. :-)**

It was only then that Aziraphale realised he hadn’t even considered the risk that Crowley had been in contact with anyone else.

_Am I getting better?_

_Well, you’re still talking to yourself._

_Hmm. True._

**I’m all right, thank you. Better than I thought I would be. Yes I close on Sundays. This Sunday then?**

**Sounds good, Sunday at 2? Meet you by the vicious swan’s pecking grounds?**

**Yes, I will see you there. Bring oats if you’re concerned about the swan, the way to her heart is through her stomach.**

It was about twenty minutes before Aziraphale received a reply.

**Is that true for you too?**

_Helloooo, me again. What if it took him twenty minutes to send that because he was anxiously deliberating over it?_

_Or , what if he has other things in his life besides sending messages to me and doesn’t mean anything by it?_

Aziraphale stared at the message and once again found himself facing _options_. It was sort of like a game show. _Which of these answers will result in the lowest level of anxiety?_ He could actually hear cheesy music in his head as he thought them through, and they were presented in his mind in a game show announcer’s voice.

  1. **You know I love food.**



The voice in his mind changed to one of a political analyst on the BBC while each possible response was considered. _So what do we think of this option? Well, it’s an interesting one, isn’t it? Particularly in the context, where the meeting being discussed involves preparing food. With this option, if he makes you a crumble, he’s possibly going to expect your heart in return._

  1. **She wouldn’t dare peck me, we have an agreement.**



_The clear downside here is that this is completely random and doesn’t actually answer the question. It’s a viable strategy but one would have to consider how its motivation would be interpreted. That could be favourable though, I do think this sends the message to back off without being frightfully explicit._

  1. **I don’t have a heart. It exploded from anxiety years ago, I’m surprised you haven’t noticed.**



_On first glance this seems ridiculous, but it could actually work,_ the analyst continued. _It’s moderately amusing and it deflects the question completely, whilst still providing a response to the actual question, unlike the option above. Definitely worthy of consideration._

  1. **I don’t have a heart, you melted it when you were stroking your thumb across my shoulder and smiling at me when I woke up in the woods.**



_Assuming that one isn’t serious and moving on._

  1. **My heart is already yours.**



_Right, just get it out of your system and let me know when you’re ready to be serious again._

  1. **Oh yes, and I can’t wait to taste your crumble.**



_Keep going._

  1. **I think we need to talk.**



_I can’t quite tell if this one is intended to be serious._

_It is. Maybe I should talk to him about all this. Get it out in the open instead of playing ridiculous games and relying on ‘strategies’._

_Very well, it shall remain an option. Do you have any further possible responses you’d like to raise for consideration?_

  1. **It’s surely true of most people?**



_Oh, now that’s quite interesting. Answering the question with a question. It has potential to be seen as a deflection but that couldn’t be determined conclusively. It’s clearly rhetorical, it should work to shut down the conversation._

Half an hour later Aziraphale still hadn’t made up his mind and suddenly the thought that Crowley could have spent twenty minutes considering his message didn’t seem so absurd after all.

_There’s always the default option of doing nothing? Just don’t respond? You’ve actually already opted for that for the last thirty minutes._

_It’s a direct question; it would be rude not to answer at all! And the last thing I need is to start worrying about that all over again!_

Aziraphale picked up his phone and responded without giving it any further thought. A response that hadn’t even been on the list. A response that had not been thoroughly considered and analysed. The response of a coward.

**:-)**

The analyst picked it apart afterwards.

_I’m not quite sure what’s going on here. It’s open to interpretation, that’s for sure. Let’s just hope the interpretation works in your favour. At least you didn’t go for ;-), there would have been no way out of that one. I’m not sure how I would feel if I spent twenty minutes deliberating over a message and then waited another thirty only to receive that, but it was better than ignoring him completely I think we can all agree._

As was to be expected, Aziraphale received no further messages from Crowley after that.

* * *

Crowley was already waiting for him, throwing oats from a safe distance to the black swan, when Aziraphale arrived at St James’s Park on Sunday.

“Hello, Crowley.”

“Hey. She’s still vicious.”

“Well, it takes time to build a relationship.”

“How many times will I need to feed her before she likes me?” That seemed like a question that meant something else.

“I’m sure she already likes you,” Aziraphale ventured, just in case.

“I hope so,” Crowley murmured, staring wistfully at the water. Aziraphale felt frustrated at not being able to see all of Crowley’s face, and hoped they would be foraging somewhere quiet so they could take their masks off again. “I made you something.”

Crowley extracted a small glass jar from his willow basket and held it out to Aziraphale, who took it from him ever-so-carefully, ensuring their fingers didn’t brush against each other. “It’s body butter; do you remember me saying about infusing oil for it?”

“Oh! Yes, I do. Thank you.”

_I also just watched your video about it._

Aziraphale unscrewed the lid and brought the jar up to his nose. It smelt divine. He rolled up his sleeve and then dipped his fingertips into the jar, smoothing the light butter over his forearm. It had a silky texture and glided easily over his skin. He rubbed it in, and could feel the softness it brought to his skin.

“It’s lovely!”

“Yeah, it certainly is,” Crowley agreed, his eyes wide and fixed on Aziraphale’s arm. Aziraphale clenched his hand around his forearm protectively, then rolled down his sleeve, even though the body butter hadn’t fully absorbed yet. Crowley looked at him like he was trying to figure him out.

_Good luck with that hopeless endeavour, my dear._

“You ready to go find some blackberries?” Crowley asked as Aziraphale screwed the lid back onto the jar and put it into the bag he’d brought with him for foraging.

“Yes!” Aziraphale beamed, clasping his hands together enthusiastically in front of him.

Crowley didn’t seem quite so relaxed today. He had the basket hooked over his arm and both hands crammed into the tight pockets of his jeans, and as they walked there was a complete absence of anything that could be described as _sauntering_.

_Is this my fault? Do I make him feel tense? Was I not grateful enough for his gift? Was it that damned smiley face I sent him? Did he not even want to come after that?_

Crowley glanced over at him and suddenly stopped walking. He placed a hand on Aziraphale’s upper arm, but when Aziraphale’s gaze followed it, he immediately removed it.

“What happened?” Crowley asked softly.

“What do you mean?”

“You just tensed right up. I _felt_ it. Are you all right? We’ll be away from people soon. I know a nice quiet spot for blackberries. Is that what’s bothering you?”

“Oh. Thank you, that sounds perfect, but no, that wasn’t it. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to feel that. I wasn’t aware that I actually _exuded_ anxiety.” Crowley tilted his head and his eyes seemed to be full of sympathy, but it really was hard to tell. The more he became acquainted with it the more Aziraphale hated Crowley’s mask. He felt a powerful urge to rip it off his face. “I was actually concerned that _you_ seemed...” he began, and Crowley raised an eyebrow. “You don’t seem completely relaxed, and then I was worried that I’d done something wrong. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, you angel. That’s very sweet but I’m fine, I promise. Please don’t worry about me.”

Aziraphale smiled in a manner that would have been imperceptible behind the mask and decided it would be best to leave it at that. He forced his muscles to relax as best he could and then continued walking.

_Sweet angel_ , his mind mocked.

_Why do you want to hurt me? You_ are _me?_

_For your own good, of course._

Aziraphale followed Crowley in silence, his hands clutched together in front of his stomach. Once again, Crowley led him to a quiet area of the park, and they stepped off the path towards the bramble bushes. Crowley pulled off his mask and shoved it in his pocket, and Aziraphale grinned, not removing his own mask until it had subsided.

Crowley immediately got to work pulling ripe blackberries from the bushes and depositing them in his basket. Aziraphale opened up his bag and did the same, hoping he could easily wash the blackberry juice off the edges of the glass jar Crowley had given him. Crowley had an advantage with his height, able to reach the biggest, juiciest blackberries that no one else had been able to get to.

Aziraphale was having less luck, but he’d managed to harvest quite a few decent ones. He kept snagging his sleeves on the thorns of the bramble bushes every time he tried to reach up to get the best ones and eventually decided it would be best to roll them up. As he did so, his palms brushed up against his forearms.

“Oh!” he exclaimed. Crowley turned to look at him, finding Aziraphale stroking his arms. “That body butter is incredible! This arm is so much softer than the other one!” Aziraphale chuckled nervously.

_Seriously? You are ridiculous, I don’t know why I even bother._

“Really?” Crowley smiled, coming over to join him. Aziraphale nodded.

“Yes. Sorry. I just noticed when I... So, erm... thank you for making it for me.”

“Oh, you’re very welcome. May I?”

Crowley was hovering his hand over Aziraphale’s exposed forearm.

_We don’t have thirty minutes to dedicate to considering this but fortunately the answer to that question is easy. Say no, Aziraphale._

Aziraphale nodded.

_If you didn’t want to say anything I would have approved a non-verbal response, but it wouldn’t have been that one. Now what have you done?_

Before he could consider it any further, Crowley’s fingertips were lightly stroking the arm he’d applied the body butter to. They then moved over to the other one, presumably for a point of comparison. Aziraphale watched those graceful fingers moving over his skin, waiting to see how his body would respond, anticipating that familiar wave of anxiety. Amazingly, it didn’t come, and instead he sighed and smiled contentedly, enjoying the contact. Crowley seemed to be considering him again.

“I can tell, but they’re both very soft,” Crowley smiled, before turning away and heading back to the patch of brambles where he’d left his basket.

_Well, at least now he knows I was grateful for the gift._

_The road to hell is paved with good intentions. And by hell I mean_ your _hell. Your own personal hell._

_I’d happily go to hell and back for Crowley._

_You need to be more careful. You’re going to regret this._

That’s when the anxiety apologised for being late and made itself known, but Aziraphale tried to take his mind off it by focusing on finding the best blackberries. Foraging seemed like an excellent activity to promote mindfulness, and Aziraphale found himself entering an almost meditative trance, thinking of nothing as he worked his way through the bushes.

“That’s probably enough blackberries, shall we go and see if the apples are ripe?” Crowley asked, but it was apparently rhetorical as he was already heading back towards the path. They walked further into the quiet part of the park, coming across an apple tree that was laden with fruit. Crowley plucked one off the tree and flicked open a pocket knife, deftly cutting the apple in half in his hand.

“You know they’re ripe when the pips turn dark brown,” Crowley explained, throwing half of the apple over to Aziraphale, who miraculously managed to catch it despite being caught off guard.

_I know, you said in your video._

“That’s good then, we can take some for our crumble.”

“ _Our_ crumble?”

“Oh... I...”

Aziraphale wracked his brain to try to remember exactly what had been said between them when they had planned this day. Had he just assumed they would be baking the crumble together without it ever actually being said? From what he could remember, yes, that was exactly what had happened. He could feel his cheeks burning.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“No, it’s fine. Of course. It’s completely fine. Let’s make a crumble together. Your place or mine?”


	13. Mutually exclusive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale bake an apple and blackberry crumble.

“Oh...”

_I could see where Crowley lives. I could actually see where he lives! How can I suggest we go to his place without sounding like a stalker? Although, he did offer..._

“Shall we go to yours? Save you having to go out again after?” Crowley suggested when no answer was forthcoming. “I actually think I’m running low on flour.”

_Damn it. That’s very kind though._

_He just knows what a quivering wreck you turn into when you have to go outside._

_Yes, that’s incredibly thoughtful of him._

“Yes, that sounds good. I have everything we’ll need. Well, except for the apples of course,” Aziraphale gestured towards the tree with a smile.

“Right, let’s get picking,” Crowley grinned, heading over to the tree and again using his height to his advantage to pick some of the biggest apples, which he placed in his basket.

“In the video you used some hazelnuts as well in the crumble mixture?”

“Oh, it’s too early for that, I’m afraid. They’re edible but they’re still green. They’ll be chewy, more like coconut,” Crowley explained. Aziraphale cast his eyes down and nodded. He’d been looking forward to trying Crowley’s special crumble recipe. “We can still harvest them just to eat? I prefer them straight off the tree anyway.”

Aziraphale’s expression brightened and he circled the apple tree, searching for the low-hanging fruits and then carrying them over to Crowley, planning to put them in his basket. He had acquired too many and was cradling them precariously against his chest. When he dropped them into Crowley’s basket, the one from the top of the pile managed to escape his hands, rolling onto the ground. They both reached down to pick it up but Crowley got there first, holding it out towards Aziraphale. It felt like the first temptation.

_Why doesn’t he just put it in the basket?_

_Because he wants you to touch his hand._

“Thank you,” Aziraphale muttered, plucking the apple extremely carefully from Crowley’s hand by its stem, the way he handled any objects coming into his bookshop nowadays before they could be decontaminated or, failing that, quarantined. He immediately placed the apple in the basket, and Crowley grimaced and turned away.

_Told you._

Crowley immediately returned his attention to seeking out the very best apples, while Aziraphale remained frozen on the spot watching him, while his mind’s eye played through images of his hand brushing against Crowley’s, the two of them placing the apple in the basket together, their hands staying connected, Crowley’s fingers interlacing with his and Crowley’s thumb stroking along the back of his hand. The man was temptation incarnate.

“That should be more than enough,” Crowley announced, coming back to join him and not commenting on the fact that Aziraphale hadn’t moved an inch for the last two minutes. “There’s a hazel just up the path here that’s coppiced so the nuts are easy to get to.”

“Perfect!” Aziraphale responded brightly, trying to ignore the obvious tension that had gathered in Crowley’s shoulders.

* * *

Crowley sat at Aziraphale’s table peeling and chopping apples and placing them into an oven dish with the blackberries while Aziraphale switched the oven on and then rummaged around in his cupboards extracting flour, brown sugar, weighing scales and a large mixing bowl. He took the butter out of the fridge and plucked his wooden spoon off the drainer.

“So, should I be worried?” Crowley asked, not looking up from his task. Aziraphale turned to him and spotted the devilish smirk he was clearly trying to suppress. It really was so much better when he could see him without his mask on. “Or are you better at baking than you are at making raspberry face masks?” Crowley teased, the smirk developing into a full-blown grin.

“You’re welcome to do it all yourself if you’d prefer?” Aziraphale countered. Crowley chuckled.

“Nah, I can’t wait to try your crumble. The way to _my_ heart is definitely through my stomach.”

Aziraphale’s own stomach did back flips at the memory of the message Crowley had sent him that he hadn’t ever really replied to. He hoped this mention wasn’t going to turn into a second attempt at the question, but fortunately, a response did actually occur to him this time.

“You know, I’ve heard that saying comes from Ancient Rome, when the best way to kill an enemy was to force the sword through the stomach and then up to the heart, bypassing the ribcage and the soldier’s armour. They would have died instantly.”

_Yes, that’s it! That’s what you should have sent as a reply to that message! Fantastic, and it only took you six days to come up with it!_

Crowley clenched his jaw and winced. “You’re not going to kill me, are you?”

“That depends,” Aziraphale mused, unwrapping the butter and dropping all of it into the bowl without weighing it. “How’s your cholesterol?”

Crowley’s eyes widened and he laughed openly. All of the tension had released from his shoulders and he looked completely adorable and so content. Aziraphale had to force himself to turn away and focus on weighing out the other crumble ingredients.

“How about you? Is the way to your heart through your stomach?”

_Oh my God, he actually did it. He actually asked me_ twice _! How was my stupid response the first time not enough to put him off? Well I’m going to have to say something now. What were my options again?_

“I don’t have a heart, it exploded from anxiety years ago.” _Option 3, good choice._

“Oh, Aziraphale.”

He wondered what Crowley would think about the fact that he’d deflected the question twice. Well, at least there was certainly no way he would ask a third time.

Having weighed out the rest of the ingredients and added them to the bowl, Aziraphale joined Crowley at his small kitchen table to mix them together. Their knees brushed briefly under the table before Aziraphale shifted on his seat to angle his legs away. He forcefully pushed the wooden spoon into the bowl, and a cloud of flour puffed into the air and dusted the table.

“I thought you said you do a lot of baking?” Crowley teased.

“I never said I wasn’t messy with it.”

“You have flour on your face,” Crowley observed, and Aziraphale released the spoon, raising his hands up to thoroughly rub his face until he could be sure he’d removed the flour. He lowered his hands and looked at Crowley, who nodded to confirm he’d got it.

“I’m afraid you have flour on your face too,” Aziraphale confessed, and proving that he was indeed as equally capable of acting without thinking as he was thinking so much he didn’t act, Aziraphale reached over and casually brushed the flour from Crowley’s cheek with his thumb. It was a fleeting moment, but he definitely felt Crowley lean into his touch.

How could he possibly decide how to behave when he was so determined to want two completely mutually exclusive things: both to deter Crowley, and to be close to him?

“Sorry about that,” Aziraphale murmured, referring both to the flour and the touch.

“Don’t be,” Crowley replied softly.

“Are those ready?” Aziraphale asked, desperate to change the subject.

“Yep.”

Aziraphale rose from the table and picked up the oven dish full of fruit with one hand and the mixing bowl with the other. He would finish mixing the ingredients at the kitchen counter instead; it was much safer than sitting opposite Crowley. He pushed the spoon into the mixture, more carefully this time, and tried to employ one of the mindfulness techniques he’d learnt, focusing on the task at hand. It didn’t help that mindfulness techniques in general made him think of Crowley.

It _certainly_ didn’t help when Crowley rose from the table and came over to join him, standing slightly behind and to the side of him and watching him work. Aziraphale pictured him stepping closer, wrapping his arms around him from behind and resting his head on his shoulder. He instinctively found himself leaning back for a moment before he caught himself.

“Looks good,” Crowley praised.

“Thank you.”

Aziraphale scooped the crumble mixture out of the bowl and spread it on top of the fruit. He opened the oven door and carefully the set the crumble on the top shelf, setting the timer for forty minutes, which was the first time he realised that if Crowley indeed intended to stay to try the crumble, he was going to be here for another _forty minutes_ , and there was nothing to serve as a distraction.

Every time they had met there had been a purpose, something to do, something to focus on. Aziraphale really hadn’t thought this through, which, he had to admit when faced once again with ‘underthinking’, really was probably a sign that his anxiety was improving. It was a shame and rather ironic that the act of underthinking itself was proving to be so anxiety-inducing.

He wondered whether Crowley would have thought of anything, after all, he always came prepared. He had prepared all of that food for their picnic, and he had brought along all of those supplies to make face masks, which somehow felt different now that Aziraphale allowed himself to visualise Crowley packing those supplies into his bag in the morning and _planning_ for that to happen.

_Because he wanted to touch you._

_Because he wanted to help me relax._

_By touching you._

Aziraphale realised that of course, even the ever-prepared Anthony Crowley wouldn’t have anything prepared for now, even with his towels in his car and his extra blanket _in case_ (that’s what he’d said when he’d handed Aziraphale that tartan blanket, but ‘in case’ of _what_? In case Aziraphale was cold? In case he’d actually wanted to share it?). He couldn’t possibly have anything prepared, because _Crowley_ hadn’t been expecting to be making crumble with Aziraphale today. This was all Aziraphale’s own doing.

“Would you like a cup of tea?”

_Yes, that’s it, if in doubt, put the kettle on. As they say, there is only one problem that can’t be eased by putting the kettle on and that’s a broken kettle._

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

Aziraphale busied himself with filling the kettle, getting mugs out of the cupboard and fetching milk from the fridge. The oven timer displayed 00:37, which flicked over to 00:36 at almost the same moment that the kettle boiled.

_There you go, ten percent of the way through already._

Aziraphale made two cups of tea, they exchanged a few words about milk and sugar, and then he handed one to Crowley. 00:35.

_Now what?_ They were still standing together in the kitchen. Should they go and sit down? Aziraphale considered suggesting they move to the sofa, but decided he wanted to stay where he could keep an eye on the oven timer. He sat back down at the kitchen table, hoping Crowley would follow his lead. He did, and their knees brushed against one another again.

“Have you had many customers since you reopened?”

“Not as many as before all of this but quite a few, yes.”

“How have you been finding it?”

“Fine. It’s been fine.”

“I saw your sign up about only letting two people in at a time. Are people complying with that or have you had to have stern words with them?” Crowley smirked like he couldn’t picture Aziraphale having stern words with anyone except possibly himself.

“I haven’t had to say anything. I rarely get many people at the same time even under normal circumstances.”

Aziraphale was picturing Crowley leaving his bookshop after this and saying to someone, ‘ _if you ever have any stones you need blood getting out of, give me a call ‘cause I just got a hell of a lot of practice’_. Why was he making Crowley do all the work? He reminded himself again that making the crumble together had been _his_ idea.

“Have _you_ been busy?” _There you go._

“Not particularly, but I’m trying to keep myself occupied. Anathema’s coming back soon; the company she’s training with wants her to start recording videos around here and running some online courses. We’ve been discussing some ideas; I was thinking about meeting up with her so she could help me with some filming. I wanted to discuss it with you first, though.”

“Why would you want to discuss it with me?”

“We’re a bubble. Wanted to check how you’d feel about it.”

“Oh, you mean whether I’ll still be comfortable spending time with you after you’ve started meeting with her?” Aziraphale asked, his heart already sinking and his anxiety levels creeping up as he thought about the fact that whenever he had contact with someone, it was also like having contact with everyone _they_ had had contact with, and everyone _they_ had been in contact with....

“Not exactly, no. I mean, I’ll only start meeting with her if you say you’re comfortable with it. I don’t want to stop seeing you.”

“But you wouldn’t need my company then. You’d have Anathema.”

“You make it sound like the only reason I’m spending time with you is just because I want some company.”

_He’s right, that is what that sounded like, and you know it isn’t true._

_But I can’t admit that I know it isn’t true. Oh no, is this it? Is this the ‘we need to talk’ moment?_

“You must know that isn’t true,” Crowley continued. “Besides, who would you have to spend time with then?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. Anyway, I’ve reopened the shop now, haven’t I? I have my customers to speak to, just as it’s always been. Well, with an added piece of Perspex but otherwise much the same.”

_I think I’ve just admitted that I have no friends and that I was alone even before all of this happened._

“Do you _want_ to keep spending time with me?” Crowley asked.

This question provided Aziraphale with an opportunity, and he needed to consider carefully whether to take it. On the one hand, _of course_ he wanted to keep seeing Crowley, but on the other, there was no denying now that Crowley had intentions beyond friendship, and although he might never act on them, Aziraphale’s strategy of trying to deter him slowly seemed to be falling apart. This would be a good reason to stop seeing each other, without any awkwardness or animosity. It was just _the situation_ , it couldn’t be helped. When all this was over Aziraphale could revisit the idea of seeing Crowley, and certainly by then Crowley’s feelings would have dissipated.

“Aziraphale?”

“Sorry, I’m thinking.”

“I’m a little disappointed that you feel it’s something you need to think about,” Crowley pouted, and all of the usual sparkle had drained from his eyes. His hands were clasped loosely together in his lap and he was staring down at them. Apparently Aziraphale’s heart hadn’t exploded from anxiety, because at that moment he very distinctly felt it tear itself in two.

_You do realise what he just offered, don’t you? To give up seeing his friend and colleague, to restrict what work he is able to do, just to make you feel comfortable and to be able to keep seeing you. He must really care about you._

Aziraphale’s anxious mind normally offered warnings, but this time the words felt more like condemnation.

“Oh, Crowley, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean it like that!” Aziraphale rose from his chair and perched on the table beside Crowley, leaning down to give him an awkward hug. Crowley lifted his arms and wrapped them loosely around Aziraphale. After a few seconds, Aziraphale straightened up but stayed where he was. “It’s just that you’ve already done so much for me, and I was just trying to work out if I was brave enough to still see you if I knew you’d had contact with someone else, which is terribly unfair of me when I’m the one who’s been seeing customers every day, and I can’t have you giving up the opportunity to see your friend and to get on with your work with her... I can’t do that to you.”

“I don’t want to make you feel anxious, and I don’t want to stop seeing you, so if you’re not comfortable...”

“I hate this! I hate this whole situation!” Aziraphale cried, meaning more than the pandemic but hoping Crowley wouldn’t realise that. He sighed heavily and turned back to the oven timer. 00:29.

“Hey, it’s ok, it’ll be ok,” Crowley tried to soothe him, reaching out and taking both of his hands in his. Aziraphale allowed it. Crowley’s hands were soft and warm, and Aziraphale closed his eyes and squeezed them gently. “We don’t have to decide what to do right now. Anathema won’t be back in London for another couple of weeks.”

Oh, if only he could know it was safe!

“You could teach me how to operate the camera so I could help you,” Aziraphale murmured, then his eyes widened and he shook his head. “Oh, that’s so selfish! That poor young lady I’m sure she’s been so excited about coming back and helping you! I can’t! Forget I said that, please!” He ripped his hands away from Crowley and stood up, pacing over towards the oven. 00:27. Crowley followed him.

“Oh, angel, that’s not selfish at all. Come here,” Crowley soothed, opening his arms and inviting Aziraphale to step into them. Aziraphale shook his head and stepped backwards, then shook his head even harder and lunged forward, slamming his body against Crowley’s and starting to cry. Crowley wrapped his arms around him tightly, whispering comforting words in his ear. Aziraphale’s hands grasped at Crowley’s back, flexing and releasing rhythmically as he tried to calm himself, while Crowley kept one arm pressed tightly against him and allowed the other to stroke soothingly up and down Aziraphale’s spine. Aziraphale’s tears kept coming, but even after they finally subsided he didn’t release his hold on Crowley, needing time to think before he could face speaking to him again, and savouring the warmth and comfort of being held by someone so absolutely _perfect_.

_You could try the alternative strategy? You know, the one where you actually have an adult conversation about everything? If you’re going to lose his friendship anyway then what do you have to lose?_

_But I don’t have to lose his friendship. We can carry on just as we have been; he’s giving me the option. I’m not ready to give this up._

Aziraphale held onto Crowley for so long that he would have had no idea how much time had passed were it not for the steady progress of the oven timer, at which he glanced as he pulled away from Crowley’s embrace. 00:20.

“I want to be able to see you,” Aziraphale murmured. “Without your mask on. I hate your mask.”

“What’s wrong with my mask?”

“It covers your face.”

“I think that’s what it’s supposed to do,” Crowley teased with a sweet smile, trying to lighten the mood.

“Well, I don’t like it,” Aziraphale pouted.

“All right. Well, we can always talk about this again if you want to, at any time, ok? Like I said, Anathema won’t even be here for a couple of weeks. We could definitely see each other before then, if you like?”

Aziraphale nodded. “Yes please.”

“Actually, I was thinking... You remember asking me if I ever do one-to-one natural wellbeing sessions?”

“Question 8,” Aziraphale mumbled, again without thinking.

“What?”

“Nothing. Yes, I remember.” Crowley furrowed his brow for a moment.

“Well, I was thinking, it’s actually not a bad idea for when all this is over.”

_Yes it is! It’s a terrible idea! Please don’t spend time doing natural wellbeing things alone with other people!_

_He’s not yours. You’re not allowed to be jealous._

“Could I try something with you? Next time we meet up?” Crowley ventured.

“Oh, well, yes, I suppose.”

“It’s a relaxation technique. I’d like to get your opinion.”

“Well I certainly am an expert on those.” Crowley smiled and scrunched his nose.

“You actually did seem quite relaxed today. I’m sorry I ruined it.”

“Oh, it’s not your fault, and yes, I actually was. Baking always helps. The only problem is that during my isolation I’ve ended up eating it all myself.”

“Isn’t eating cake a relaxation technique of sorts as well?”

“Oh, it can be,” Aziraphale managed to smile, and Crowley smiled in return, but something was different. Crowley smiling at Aziraphale was nothing unusual, but _this_ smile was firmly fixed on his face and clearly had no intentions of disappearing. Crowley kept his eyes locked on Aziraphale and stroked under his chin with the back of his hand.

“When shall we do it, then? I’d prefer a sunny day but I think the weather looks decent for a while now. One of the evenings? Or next Sunday?”

“Sunday, perhaps? I have a lot of cleaning to do every evening after I close up the shop.”

“Ah, yeah, of course. Sunday sounds good. Same time, same place? I’m determined to get that swan to like me,” he chuckled.

“Yes, fine.”

“Perfect,” Crowley grinned and winked at Aziraphale. His heart quickened and he averted Crowley’s gaze by glancing back over at the oven timer. “How’s the crumble doing?”

“Another fifteen minutes, but let me show you what else I’ve been baking! I have far too much, maybe there will be something you’d like to take home with you?”

“Sounds good.”

Aziraphale clapped his hands together and busied himself with his cake tins, pleased not only for thinking of something to fill some time but also that he was going to be able to reciprocate by giving Crowley a homemade gift.

He tried not to think too much about what Crowley might have planned for Sunday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time I type "crumble" I think of Jim in Friday Night Dinner and I can't believe that Mark Heap is Radio Aziraphale!


	14. Sacrifices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley tries a slightly weird new relaxation exercise with Aziraphale, but it turns out there's more to his plan than Aziraphale bargained for.

Crowley had again arrived before Aziraphale to St James’s Park on Sunday, and was busy throwing oats to the black swan. As he approached, Aziraphale cast his eyes over him and realised that he’d been so busy _worrying_ this whole time that he’d never actually stopped to really think about how immensely flattering, _honouring_ , it was that Crowley wanted to spend time with him and was even (although to Aziraphale this was still completely baffling) attracted to him.

_Oh, it would be so much easier if..._

_Stop it, that’s not helpful._

“Hello,” Aziraphale greeted him warmly.

“Hey,” Crowley responded, reaching out and pulling Aziraphale into a quick hug. It was casual and friendly, and Aziraphale found it particularly nice to enjoy a hug from Crowley that hadn’t been initiated because he was crying. Crowley pulled away and returned his attention to the swan. “She’s definitely starting to like me.”

“I’m sure you’ll have her eating out of your hand in no time.”

“I hope so. Oh, hey!” Crowley began, seizing Aziraphale’s arm excitedly. “I have some good news! I spoke to Anathema, she’s happy not to see anyone else when she comes back to London so she can join us in our bubble! She’s going to stay in her flat for the first couple of weeks just in case and then I’ll be able to start working with her again.”

Crowley was beaming so much it was evident even with his mask on, and he hadn’t released his grip on Aziraphale’s arm. Aziraphale parted his lips and searched for something to say in response, finding himself quite speechless.

“She would really do that for you?” he eventually managed. “She must really care about you.”

Crowley raised his eyebrows and leaned forward, waiting for the penny to drop.

“Oh! I mean... I... I am of course _very_ grateful that _you_ offered to...”

“Angel,” Crowley began, raising his palms up to stop Aziraphale’s rambling. “It’s ok to let someone care about you enough that they’re willing to make a sacrifice for you. And it’s ok to _make_ a sacrifice to make someone you care about happy.”

Aziraphale took a step back, and Crowley finally released his hold on him. Aziraphale clutched his arms across his stomach and scrunched his eyes closed.

_Not now, not now, don’t think about this now_ , he begged, but he just couldn’t help himself. Crowley had just told him it was ok to do the one thing he had been promising himself since Gabriel that he wasn’t prepared to do. But was _that_ the problem? _Should_ he have been prepared to make that sacrifice for someone he cared about? Someone who cared about him? Despite having gone over this argument many times before, he asked himself whether it was _really_ a sacrifice, or whether it was more of an inconvenience, just like any number of other things one would do to make their partner happy. He _could_ do it. After all, that had actually been part of the _old_ strategy, before Gabriel had said...

“Aziraphale, come back to me,” Crowley murmured, touching his hands lightly to Aziraphale’s shoulders. “It’s all right, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel anxious. It’s a good thing. It’s a really good thing. Yeah? We’ll still be able to see each other and Anathema and I can do some work together. Ok?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale croaked. “It’s wonderful news, Crowley. I’m sorry. What you said just reminded me of something.”

“Well, we should only make sacrifices for people who really deserve it,” Crowley said kindly, indicating his interpretation of the cause of Aziraphale’s anxiety had been that he’d actually made a sacrifice for someone and had subsequently been betrayed. Aziraphale had no intentions of correcting him.

He _would_ have made sacrifices for Crowley. Crowley definitely deserved it. But not that sacrifice... he’d been over this with himself far too many times. He couldn’t. Besides, he could tell Crowley cared about him enough that he wouldn’t actually _want_ him to make that sacrifice once he knew how Aziraphale felt about it, and that meant they couldn’t possibly be together.

_Unless Crowley is willing to sacrifice...?_

_No! I could never ask him to do that! I’m not worth it. People don’t make that kind of sacrifice just to be with someone like me._

“So, I was thinking we could go back up to that little wooded area? You know, where you poured raspberry face mask all over my hair?”

Aziraphale blinked back his tears and tried to focus on what was actually happening in front of him now, instead of letting images from fifteen years ago fill his mind.

“I don’t think that’s an accurate description of what actually happened, my dear,” he managed. Crowley shrugged and his eyes crinkled. “But yes, let’s go there.”

They walked together in companionable silence. Crowley was back to sauntering, occasionally swaying such that his arm brushed up against Aziraphale’s. Each time, Aziraphale moved away slightly, until eventually it stopped happening.

Once they’d entered the miniature woodland, both of them removed their masks and Crowley headed straight for the spot where they’d had their picnic and retrieved the blanket from his bag, laying it out over the ground. Crowley knelt on the blanket, his fingers shoved as far as they would go into the pockets of his jeans, and Aziraphale sat down beside him.

“Right, so this thing I was talking about... you still willing to try it?”

“Should I not be?” Aziraphale teased, determined to enjoy his day with Crowley and not let his anxiety take over. He’d made his decision, there was no point rehashing it over and over again.

“It’s just that it’s a new thing I’m trying, ok? It might seem a little weird...” The muscles in Aziraphale’s face twitched. “No, I mean, well, yeah, it probably _is_ weird, but it should be relaxing too, I mean, I think it will be.” Crowley rambled.

“Well, you’re selling it incredibly well so far.”

Crowley hung his head down and huffed out a long breath. “We don’t have to do this.”

“It’s all right, I trust you.”

He had hoped that Crowley would tease him, maybe say ‘ _famous last words_ ’ or words to that effect, but instead Crowley lifted his head back up and studied him.

“Yeah? You do?”

“Of course I do. As you’ve already pointed out, _I_ was the one who poured the raspberry face mask all over you,” Aziraphale joked, discomfited by the shift in Crowley’s demeanour and determined to re-establish something more akin to the banter they often enjoyed. Crowley laughed, but it was small and quiet.

“All right. Lie down on the blanket for me. Make yourself comfortable.” Recognising that last time Crowley had said that, in this very spot, Aziraphale had made himself _too_ comfortable by rolling up his sleeves and removing his bow tie, he simply shuffled down on the blanket and laid his head back on the ground. Crowley shuffled beside him, and then Aziraphale felt a hand on the side of his head, encouraging him to lift it slightly as Crowley pushed a folded blanket beneath it as a makeshift pillow. Crowley’s hands in his hair had been something Aziraphale had fantasised about on many occasions since he had brushed back the curls over his forehead to apply the face mask. His scalp tingled.

Crowley chuckled nervously. “Right, so, yeah. This is going to be weird.”

“Yes, you’ve said that. You’re making me have second thoughts about trusting you.”

“No, no, please, it’s all right. I can do this. It’s... right, well, do you know what grounding is? Some people call it earthing?” Aziraphale shook his head. “Ok, so, there’s this theory that it’s good for us to make contact with the ground and let electrons flow up from the Earth into our bodies. They say that wearing shoes with artificial soles blocks the electrons and we end up positively charged.”

“I don’t think I’m _positively_ charged,” Aziraphale tried joking once more. Crowley didn’t respond. He had that tension in his shoulders again, and his hands were shoved back into his pockets.

“Well, it might be a load of bollocks but they sell grounding blankets and special shoes and all sorts of stuff. Probably needs more research. Anyway, in case it’s a thing, the blanket is made of wool, so that will conduct electrons, so as long as your skin is in contact with it, just your hands is fine, then they should all be making their way up into you now.”

“Excellent.”

“So that’s part of it, but well, what I wanted to try was combining the idea of grounding with a mindfulness exercise. I mean, a mindfulness exercise _about_ grounding yourself.”

Crowley was normally so eloquent. Aziraphale wasn’t sure whether there were electrons flowing into his body or not, but either way, he certainly wasn’t finding this relaxing, he was only becoming more and more tense.

“Is it all right if I touch you?” Crowley asked.

“Oh... well...”

“It’ll be your head, your shoulders, your wrists and your... erm... ankles.”

“What are you going to do to me?” Aziraphale asked with what he hoped came across as _mock_ apprehension.

“I’m just going to put my hands on you and talk you through some stuff. Visualisation stuff. Does that sound ok?”

“That sounds fine, thank you.” It did actually sound quite pleasant to have Crowley’s hands on him in those places, although he might actually have said almost anything at that point to try to stop Crowley fretting about it. Crowley breathed in deeply.

“Ok, good. Close your eyes. Keep them closed.”

He wanted to tease Crowley about leaving himself vulnerable to a sword through the stomach and up to his heart, but he thought better of it. He didn’t like to think why Crowley was so evidently nervous. Was it because he was going to be touching him? He considered how the thought of touching him might make Crowley feel. He also considered putting a stop to this, but wasn’t sure how to do so without hurting Crowley.

_It’s supposed to be a relaxation exercise. I should probably try actually relaxing._

Aziraphale rolled his head back so he was facing the sky and closed his eyes. After a moment he felt Crowley’s hands pressing down on the top of his head.

“Have you watched the video with the body scanning exercise?”

“Yes.”

“This is a bit like that. Block out everything else and just focus on the part of your body where I’ve placed my hands. Visualise yourself in contact with the ground, with roots growing outwards from where my hands are, anchoring you.”

Aziraphale didn’t find the image of roots growing out of his head particularly relaxing, but he complied, to an extent, so that he could give Crowley proper feedback once this was over. Mostly he focused on the tingling sensation that spread from where Crowley’s hands touched his hair.

After a short while, Crowley moved his hands to Aziraphale’s shoulders. It felt incredibly silly, and Aziraphale was biting his lip to suppress a giggle. He couldn’t really concentrate well enough to visualise the roots as Crowley had requested.

When Crowley moved his hands to Aziraphale’s wrists, clasping gently around them, he couldn’t stop the giggle from escaping. He opened his eyes.

“Crowley, I’m not sure this is...”

“Shhh.”

“But Crowley...”

“You can tell me what you think after I’m done. Close your eyes. Or did you mean you want me to stop? We can stop,” he added, releasing Aziraphale’s wrists.

“No, thank you for asking, but I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry, it’s just... a little strange, that’s all.” Aziraphale demonstrated his commitment to the trial of this bizarre endeavour by closing his eyes, but when Crowley’s fingers found his wrists again, sending shivers up his forearms, Aziraphale opened them again and looked up at Crowley’s face. Crowley caught him immediately and locked eyes with him, allowing it for a moment before requesting once again that he close his eyes. As he did so, Aziraphale licked his lips and shook his head.

Crowley’s hands then moved to his ankles, working their way under the hem of his trousers and resting on top of his socks. It was strangely intimate, and Aziraphale’s earlier barely-contained mirth about the situation melted away. He was _enjoying_ this, it actually felt _good_. Crowley’s hands were pressing down lightly on his ankles, sending tingles up his legs this time, and he really did feel _anchored_. For a moment, the rest of the world and all of its problems really did sink away, leaving nothing but the ground holding him up and Crowley gently holding him down, as though everything was going to be ok, like he was saying ‘ _I’ve got you_ ’.

Aziraphale drew in a deep breath and released it slowly, and he could feel his muscles tugging his lips into a smile.

“You’re enjoying this?”

“Yes, it’s nice,” Aziraphale murmured softly. Crowley’s grip on his ankles tightened slightly, and he smoothed his thumb back are fore over Aziraphale’s ankles.

“Ok, now sit up for me, cross your legs in front of you,” Crowley instructed. Aziraphale opened his eyes to find Crowley beaming at him. He complied with the request, surprised to find Crowley doing exactly the same, leaving them sat facing each other, with their knees actually touching.

_Don’t think about that now, just focus._

“Rest your hands in your lap, with your palms facing up.” Again, Aziraphale did as he was told. “Take a deep breath in,” Crowley began, and Aziraphale closed his eyes and counted as the air moved into his lungs _1, 2, 3, 4_ , “and out.” _1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6_.

“May I take your hands?” Crowley asked tentatively. Aziraphale hesitated but nodded. Crowley placed his palms down on top of Aziraphale’s. It was like joining the ends of two wires together, electricity flowing between them. Aziraphale glanced down at where their hands were connected. He noticed that Crowley had painted his nails. He couldn’t remember seeing Crowley with painted nails before, but it suited him.

“Oh! I really like your nails!” Aziraphale beamed.

“Yeah?” Crowley grinned. “You really... like them?”

Aziraphale smiled and nodded. He closed his eyes, then instantly considered what he’d just seen. Crowley’s nails weren’t painted randomly; the nails of his right hand and the thumbnail of his left were each painted a different colour of the rainbow, more specifically, in the colours of the pride flag, which was _possibly_ intended to communicate to Aziraphale that he was attracted to men, although could he really believe that Aziraphale wasn’t already aware of that? Either way, it set off all sorts of thoughts rushing around in Aziraphale’s mind, bumping into and falling over each other.

“Focus on your breathing,” Crowley whispered, pressing his palms against Aziraphale’s. Aziraphale tried as hard as he could to breathe slowly despite the racing of his mind.

_I’ve never noticed him with painted nails before. He didn’t even have them painted like that when we met in June. What if he just wants to make sure I know? Oh! What if he can tell that I’m attracted to him and he thinks I haven’t done anything about it because I think he’s straight! I only saw six nails, what colours were the other four? Could they have represented something too? Should I look? No, I shouldn’t look. I need to just keep my eyes closed and keep breathing and just calm down and then after this is over then I’ll talk to him. I’m going to do it. I have to do it. Oh wait! When I said I liked his nails, what if he thought I was saying..._

Aziraphale’s slow, rhythmic breathing was interrupted by a gasp and his eyes flashed open, reacting to the sensation of Crowley’s lips pressed against his cheek, which he kissed once, then twice, before Aziraphale had the wherewithal to forcefully push him away, sending Crowley falling backwards onto the blanket.

“No!” Aziraphale cried, then brought his hands up to cover his face. “Oh, God, no, please, no, no, no...”

Crowley recovered his balance and shuffled back over towards him. “Oh, God, Aziraphale, I’m so sorry! I thought...” Crowley pressed his palms to his face and then ran his hands through his hair. “I am so, so, sorry.”

Aziraphale hunched over, gasping for breath, his eyes stinging with the threat of tears.

“I’m so sorry, I really... I... what do you want me to do? Do you want me to go? But I... I can’t leave you like this! I’m _so_ sorry. I’m such an idiot, I can’t believe I thought... Can I do anything? Do you want to talk about this?”

Aziraphale frantically shook his head and rose up from the blanket with difficulty, weighed down by a ball of lead in his gut that came from knowing that his own selfishness and recklessness had caused this and now his friendship with Crowley would be ruined forever.

“I’m fine, I’m going home,” he choked out. “Goodbye Crowley,” he forced out before the tears began flowing in waves as he ran back towards the path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys! Bless (damn?) these two with their plans and strategies, you'd have thought one of them would have gone for the "proper adult conversation" option by now, but no....
> 
> Spare a thought for Crowley, who with the nail salons closed (and his commitment to his bubble anyway), had to order all nine different colours of nail polish that he was wearing (Aziraphale really needs to be more observant) and who, furthermore, spent AGES coming up with that very weird relaxation exercise, only to get that reaction. Poor thing. <3


	15. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale thinks back on his relationship with Gabriel and struggles to come to terms with what has happened with Crowley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've added another chapter because this got out of hand. Thank you so much to everyone that has been reading and commenting on this story, I am so immensely grateful!

**December 2004**

“You are so gorgeous,” Gabriel growled into Aziraphale’s ear, unbuttoning the top of his shirt and nuzzling Aziraphale’s neck, planting kisses over every inch of exposed skin.

“Thank you, so are you,” Aziraphale smiled. Gabriel kissed him on the lips, eliciting a contented sigh from Aziraphale. He then turned his head away, but Gabriel followed his movement and pressed his lips against Aziraphale’s once more and mumbled against his mouth.

“I’m so glad you could finally get up here.” Aziraphale pulled back.

“Yes, me too. The bookshop is always busy at this time of year but what’s a couple of days if I get to spend them with you?” Aziraphale grinned. He readjusted himself so that his feet were curled up on the sofa, his head resting on Gabriel’s shoulder. The fire crackled invitingly in the hearth, the delicate dance of the flames joining the twinkling of fairy lights on the Christmas tree to blanket Gabriel’s living room with soft illumination.

Aziraphale wrapped an arm around Gabriel, breathing in deeply and finding himself quite unable to stop smiling. He had always wanted this, he had _craved_ this, and couldn’t believe that for the first time in the thirty-three years of his life, he wouldn’t be spending the run-up to Christmas alone. Tomorrow, they would visit the Christmas market and enjoy hot crepes and tea. Later, they would curl back up on this sofa and watch one of those cheesy romantic Christmas films and play ‘Hallmark film bingo’. High-flying corporate businessman ends up in a small town where everybody knows each other, check. It starts snowing, check. Going to choose the perfect real Christmas tree, check. Decorating Christmas cookies, check.

Aziraphale would gladly do all of those things with Gabriel, even the part about moving out of the big city. He had travelled up on the train from London on Sunday morning and as soon as he'd stepped off the train, he'd started to consider how pleasant it was not to be instantly crushed by hoards of people rushing to pass him. Right now as he held onto him, Gabriel felt so warm and comforting, and Aziraphale’s lips parted with wonder as he realised he was the happiest he could ever remember feeling.

Aziraphale had met Gabriel online, but not with the intention of pursuing a relationship. They had both been members of an online forum devoted to the acquisition of rare first editions, and had started conversing when Aziraphale had been able to source something for which Gabriel had been looking for a very long time. As it turned out, it ended up being Gabriel who had given Aziraphale something he’d been looking for his whole life. They had exchanged numbers and talked for hours, almost every day, first about books but then about anything and everything. The walls Aziraphale had built up around himself came crumbling down, desperate to finally let someone in, eager to share himself with another human being.

They had first met ‘IRL’ when Gabriel had been down in London for business. They had agreed to meet for lunch at Paddington station when Gabriel got off his train. They would only have about an hour, and Aziraphale had stared up at the Arrivals board, anxiously rubbing his hands together, as the arrival time of Gabriel’s train kept creeping up by one minute at a time. In the end, the train arrived seven minutes late. Aziraphale’s heart and stomach began a synchronised gymnastics routine when the ETA on the board changed to Arrived. He began looking around for Gabriel. They had sent photographs to each other, of course, and Gabriel had promised to wear a lavender-coloured scarf to help Aziraphale to recognise him amongst the crowds.

Aziraphale could barely eat, but had picked at his food, not wanting Gabriel to see how nervous he was. Gabriel had talked passionately between mouthfuls, leaving Aziraphale not needing to think of too much to say, and when their time was up, Gabriel had called the person he was meeting and told them his train was late, giving them another thirty minutes together. Aziraphale had distinctly felt the heat rising in his cheeks. Gabriel had _lied_ just to spend more time with him.

In the five months since they had met, Gabriel had met Aziraphale in London seven times, but never for longer than an afternoon or an evening. They had shared dinners together, walked through the parks together, and shared long, indulgent hugs on the platform, neither wanting to step away, waiting for the last possible moment until Gabriel had to board his train. The last time they had met, Gabriel had broken the hug and planted a soft, tender kiss on Aziraphale’s lips, and Aziraphale was left glowing. Gabriel would probably have never imagined that that was the first time Aziraphale had been kissed.

Now, he was actually curled up with Gabriel on his sofa, and so far they had kissed nine times. Gabriel wriggled his arm free from under Aziraphale and wrapped it around his back, settling his hand on Aziraphale’s waist.

“Kiss me,” Gabriel whispered, and Aziraphale obediently tilted his head up, Gabriel capturing his lips for kiss number ten. This kiss lasted longer than the others, and Aziraphale could feel Gabriel becoming more insistent. He had been dreading this moment, but he had a _strategy_ , it was going to be fine. He could tell Gabriel cared about him. It would be fine. It was going to be fine.

Gabriel shifted on the sofa and ran his hands down Aziraphale’s chest as they kissed, then down to his hips, which he grabbed hold of, using his strength to pull Aziraphale on top of him, pulling him tightly against his body. Aziraphale could feel Gabriel’s arousal and squirmed to pull away. Gabriel released him and stared at him, brows furrowed.

“I’m sorry, Gabriel, we need to talk about this.”

“What’s wrong?”

Aziraphale started to wonder whether he should have mentioned this sooner. He hadn’t, because it seemed inappropriate to bring it up when their relationship was so new, but now, although most of it had been spent at distance, it had been _five months_. He hoped that that much time had been enough for Gabriel to develop feelings for him strong enough to survive what he was about to say, but the thought of that left him with more of a sinking feeling than one of hope, feeling almost like he was trying to manipulate him. Aziraphale shuffled his weight off Gabriel and sat beside him on the sofa.

“Well, this new law that’s coming into effect next year that will allow gay people to marry...”

“Civil partnerships,” Gabriel corrected scornfully.

“Well, yes. I’ve been thinking about it, and it’s something I’d like to do. One day, I mean, I’m not suggesting we get married!” Aziraphale chuckled nervously. “And... I don’t think... I mean, I don’t want... I’ve decided I don’t want to have sex before I’m married.”

That was it. That was the strategy. Aziraphale’s theory was that if someone ever loved him enough to ‘marry’ him, and he them, then this was something he would be able to do to make them happy. He would figure it out then. If he was ever fortunate enough for someone to love him that much, he was _sure_ he could work it out, and until then, he would have the luxury of enjoying everything associated with a romantic relationship. Having someone commit themselves to him for the rest of their lives? That was worth the sacrifice.

“You’re joking,” Gabriel responded bluntly.

“Not at all.”

“No sex before marriage? You think God cares about that but doesn’t care that you’re gay?”

“I didn’t make this decision for God; I made this decision for me. It’s what I want.”

“I bet I can change your mind,” Gabriel purred, running the back of his hand down Aziraphale’s arm and leaning in to resume kissing his neck. Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut and fought back tears.

“No, Gabriel, you won’t change my mind.” Gabriel immediately stopped kissing Aziraphale and leaned back, scowling.

“Then you should probably go.”

“But... I...”

“Goodnight, Aziraphale.”

Gabriel rose from the sofa and trudged off towards the stairs, heading up to bed. Aziraphale sat frozen in place for a moment. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. His most immediate problem was that although he had told Gabriel he had intended to book a hotel when he came to stay, Gabriel had insisted that there was no point when he could stay over at his house. Aziraphale had asked if he had a spare room, and Gabriel had said yes.

Tears began streaming down his cheeks as he rose from the sofa and numbly pulled on his coat, hat, scarf and gloves, before picking up his overnight bag and stepping out of Gabriel’s house. Gabriel had picked him up at the station. He called a taxi and sat shivering on the wall at the front of Gabriel’s house waiting for it to arrive. He noticed when the light in Gabriel’s bedroom switched off.

The taxi driver had been able to recommend a bed and breakfast, and Aziraphale trudged gloomily inside, engaging in the minimal essential small talk with the owner before making his way up to his room, where he immediately fell down onto the bed and sobbed until his ribs hurt. He haphazardly pulled the blankets over his body, not bothering to change, and fell asleep with his face pressed down into the pillow. He woke when it was still dark outside and picked up his phone, finding a message from Gabriel.

**We shouldn’t see each other anymore. We obviously want different things. I can’t believe you did that to me. 5 months you’ve been leading me on. If anyone else is ever stupid enough to fall for you then I hope you tell them about this ridiculous notion of yours straight away. Fucking hell Aziraphale you are unbelievable. You really thought someone could want you enough to agree to that? I’ve got news for you, you’re not that special.**

Aziraphale swept his fingertips across the screen of his phone to dry off the tears that had fallen there. The snake of regret was weaving its way in and out around his intestines and constricting around them. Gabriel was right. How could he have been so selfish? But amongst the intense anguish, there was a tiny flicker of relief that his strategy had failed. Why would he want to build a forever partnership on a lie? The whole idea had been, just as Gabriel had said, _ridiculous_. He didn’t want to make that kind of sacrifice. So he would be alone forever, well, so what, he’d already been alone for long enough he could clearly cope with it. If only he didn’t have the memory of how wonderful it had felt to have someone’s eyes light up when they saw you coming to meet them, to have warm arms wrapped around you, holding you close... talking for hours, desperately fighting sleep and forcing your eyes to stay open just to hear their voice for a little while longer...

If only.

* * *

**September 2020**

It was only when Aziraphale noticed the other people wearing masks that he remembered he needed to put his own back on. He was glad of it; if he could he would have covered his whole face as he walked as briskly as he could manage back to Soho, just focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. When he stepped into the bookshop, he ripped off his mask and lowered himself down to the floor right there by the door, clutching his knees up to his chest and sobbing.

He reached into his pocket for his phone.

_Don’t look_ , his mind cautioned, but he needed to see if Crowley had tried to contact him. He wasn’t sure what would be worse, having to read a message from Crowley or finding he hadn’t sent one.

_That’s why you shouldn’t look._

**1 New Message**

**Aziraphale, I am so, so, sorry. I should never have done that, I will never forgive myself. Please let me know you’re all right. You mean so much to me, I hope you know that. I would never want to cause you harm. I am so sorry. Please be ok.**

Aziraphale placed his phone down on the floor beside him and just let the tears flow until there seemed to be none left. Every muscle in his body was aching and he felt dizzy, like he could fall over and sleep right there on the floor. He forced himself to stand, holding onto a table of books for support, and padded to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water to replenish his dehydrated body. He tried sitting at the kitchen table, but the floor had felt more appropriate somehow, so he slid down from his chair and leaned his back up against one of the kitchen cupboards. His phone vibrated.

**1 New Message**

**Aziraphale, I know I’m being selfish but please tell me you’re all right. If there’s anything you need or want just tell me. If you want me to stop contacting you just let me know. If you want to talk, I would really like to try to explain what happened. I can’t possibly express how sorry I am. I know it’s not easy but if you can please don’t feel anxious because of me, I’m not worth it. You’re doing so well, I’m in awe of how brave you have been. You deserve to be happy. You deserve all the happiness in the world. Please let me know you’re ok.**

Apparently the glass of water he had consumed had been absorbed and replenished his tear ducts, as the tears started falling again. He couldn’t think straight, so consumed with regret, his mind full of thoughts about what he should have done differently in the past providing no help when it came to deciding what to do _now_.

This was madness. He was suffering, and Crowley was suffering, and for what? Oh, if only he’d been honest since the beginning, how could he make the same mistake twice? But when was the right moment to bring it up? Was it really appropriate to talk about something like that with someone he wasn’t even _dating_?

“Seriously, when would have been the right time for that?” he choked out, his voice coarse and subdued.

_Probably when he kissed you._

A new wave of anguish crashed over him as his mind was filled with an alternative version of events where Crowley kissed him, and it felt _incredible_ , but he moved away gently and clasped their hands together, asking Crowley whether they could talk before taking things any further, and Crowley would have agreed, and Aziraphale would have explained everything, and then Crowley would probably have just thanked him for explaining and they would have concluded they couldn’t be together, but maybe, just maybe, Crowley would still have wanted to be friends.

But Aziraphale kept remembering that message from Gabriel. It had been fifteen years, but he had read it so many times the memory of it was burned permanently into his synapses.

**5 months you’ve been leading me on.**

What if Crowley had been angry? Aziraphale could tell himself that he knew Crowley better than that, but he’d thought he’d known Gabriel too and had never expected to receive such cruel words from him.

**You really thought someone could want you enough to agree to that? I’ve got news for you, you’re not that special.**

But Crowley...

**You deserve all the happiness in the world.**

Aziraphale let his head fall down onto his knees. He should really just go to bed. Maybe he could fall asleep. Maybe when he woke up it would hurt a tiny bit less.

**1 New Message**

**I’ve sent you an email with a Zoom link just in case you want to talk. I’ll keep it open day and night. I’m here until you tell me to go away. I should have said this before, so in case you never want to talk to me again I need to say it now - it’s you who is perfect. I really hope you believe me.**

_Why is he being so wonderful? Why is he saying such lovely things? How can he forgive me from running away from him like that? Why did I have to panic? Why didn’t I just ask him to stop? I gave him every reason to think I would want him to kiss me. I did want him to kiss me! Why did I have to get so ahead of myself? Why didn’t I just talk to him?_

Was it possible that if they talked about this, Crowley would actually understand? Was it even _possible_ that he might want to be with Aziraphale anyway? Aziraphale tried so hard to forget about Gabriel’s words. Was it really fair to never even _ask_ him?

Aziraphale kept staring at Crowley’s message and his eyes drifted to the date and time. How was it September already? It had been March but a moment ago, spring and summer passing by in the blink of an eye and he had spent almost all of it hiding, doing everything he needed to stay alive but barely living at all.

It was a microcosm of his entire life, and as he thought about the changing of the seasons he realised that the autumn of his own life had begun, and he found himself thinking about the apples and blackberries he had picked with Crowley... Autumn was a time for harvest, to reap the rewards of what had been sown in the spring. Autumn was not a time for new beginnings, and it was surely too late to start anything now. Unlike the seeds that lay dormant in the ground waiting for another spring to come around, this life had been the only one he would ever have, and he had spent it afraid and alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'm in this fic and I don't like it"! I've really been struggling with my anxiety the past couple of days. Anyone have any experience to suggest whether if I do pull back more from things and just try to live a really quiet, simple life, will I regret "missed opportunities" when I'm older? (The mood in this fic has really plummeted hasn't it??? Things will get better, I promise!)
> 
> Also thank you again SO MUCH I can't tell you how much I appreciate everyone who has read this and left kudos/comments, I'm trying to respond to you all and I love hearing from you, you are all such lovely people! Everyone in this fandom is so supportive! <3 *virtual hugs*


	16. Sandwiches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley have an actual conversation about what happened!

It was 11pm when Aziraphale finally logged on to his laptop and clicked on the Zoom link Crowley had sent.

_Connect with video?_

_Yes._

Most of the screen was filled with a plain white wall, but at the bottom of the screen he could see Crowley’s hair.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale ventured tentatively. There was no movement. “Crowley?”

Crowley suddenly jerked up and his face filled the screen, but it became apparent that he was lying on his side. He shuffled around, and Aziraphale caught sight of pillows, revealing he had been lying on his bed. The image wobbled as Crowley adjusted the screen of his laptop, pointing it up at him as he sat up with his legs crossed beneath him. His hair was all over the place, and his eyes looked dark and sunken.

“Aziraphale... Hi...” Crowley squeezed his eyes closed for a moment and took a deep breath. “Are you all right?” Crowley pressed his palms together and leaned his nose against them.

“I’m... I don’t know what I am. I’m tired.”

“Aziraphale, would you feel comfortable with me trying to explain what happened?” Aziraphale nodded, and Crowley ran his hands through his hair, causing it to fluff up even more around his face. “Thank you so much for talking to me, if you want to stop at any time just tell me, ok?” Aziraphale nodded again. “I really am so, so, sorry. I should never have done what I did, especially when you had your eyes closed!” Crowley winced and squeezed his eyes closed again. “I feel terrible, Aziraphale. Please believe when I say, and I’m not saying this because I expect you to forgive me, what I did was unforgiveable, but I really believed... I mean, I thought I was _sure_ , I mean I can’t have been because I was clearly wrong but I genuinely thought you were showing me that you wanted me to take things further between us. There have been some times when it’s seemed like you’ve been afraid to take a step but you’ve seemed to have appreciated it when I’ve been the one to do it, but this was different, it doesn’t matter what I thought, I should never have done something like that without you explicitly saying it’s what you wanted. Whatever I thought you wanted I shouldn’t have acted on it without talking to you first. I would never want to cause you any distress, I really mean that, I really thought...” Crowley growled and drew his hands through his hair again, this time pulling it over his face for a moment before shoving it behind his ears. “How could I have done something so selfish? Please know, Aziraphale, _please_ know that I have complete and total respect for you and your wishes and your wellbeing. I hate myself for making you feel the way I did.”

Aziraphale cradled his hands together and rested his chin on them as even more tears flowed down his cheeks. He looked at Crowley, who was brushing tears away from his own eyes.

“I’m so sorry, angel.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “I hate that I’ve made you feel this way, Crowley. Please don’t say it’s unforgiveable. _I_ forgive you. I understand what you’re trying to say, and you were right. Do you remember when you said you could actually feel my anxiety, like I was exuding it? Everything you thought you felt, everything you thought I wanted, I know I was exuding that too. I’ve so often thought about you kissing me like that, Crowley. You weren’t wrong to think I would enjoy it.”

Crowley opened and closed his mouth a few times, staring at his screen. Aziraphale had forgotten how frustrating this was, that when Crowley was looking at him he wasn’t actually looking at him.

“But you didn’t say I could do it,” Crowley eventually croaked.

“No, I didn’t, and I appreciate your apology Crowley but I completely understand why you thought I wanted you to do that. It was a mistake, Crowley, that’s all. Sometimes no matter how hard we try we end up misreading a situation, we’re only human. I know you genuinely thought you were doing what I wanted and that you’d only want to do things to make me happy, and that’s _important_ , Crowley. I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have panicked and left you there like that, I’ve been thinking and I have a pretty good idea why I did but still... I should have just talked to you. I know that if I’d just asked you to stop you would have. Please listen to me. Please forgive yourself for this.”

“How are you so lovely? Oh God, Aziraphale, I was so nervous... and then I was so excited when I thought you were saying... I just... I just wanted to be close to you. I wanted to do something to make you feel good. I wanted to _surprise_ you, how stupid is that?”

“Crowley, you have been so kind and patient and generous with me. It was _one_ mistake. God knows I’ve made enough of them. I knew I should talk to you about my feelings but I didn’t. I shouldn’t have put you in that situation, and I’m sorry. Crowley, look at me.”

“I am looking at you,” Crowley murmured softly.

“Fucking Zoom!” Aziraphale yelled, dragging his own fingers through his hair. “Oh, God, Crowley, I’m so sorry. I just hate this bloody thing!”

“Oh hey...” Crowley began, as if he’d just figured something out. “Zoom.”

“What about it?”

“Remember when I said, when 2004 calls you asking for that phone of yours back, you could tell them to invest in hand sanitiser? You should tell them to invest in... Zoom.” Crowley was clearly to trying to lighten the mood, but he lost steam part way through and the last few words were delivered uncertainly. Aziraphale pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.

“If 2004 calls I’m telling them to stop me from getting on that train.” He mumbled into his hands. He lowered them to find Crowley looking at him quizzically. “Sorry, ignore that.”

Aziraphale thought over what Crowley had said. He was absolutely right, Aziraphale had always waited for him to make the first move. It was Crowley who had initiated speaking on Zoom, both right now and when they’d first ‘met’. It was Crowley who had suggested they form a bubble and go foraging together. It was Crowley who had asked to hug him. Crowley who had given him his number. Crowley who had found the courage to try to rescue them from floating aimlessly on an iceberg of denial while all their feelings sloshed around beneath them.

Enough. Aziraphale couldn’t keep relying on Crowley to take the lead, absorbing his comfort and never once considering that maybe Crowley might need the same himself. He evidently did now.

“Would you like me to come over? You could send me your address?” Aziraphale ventured. “Or you can come to my place, if you like? If it’s not too late? I’d like to see you, if you’d like that too, I mean.”

“Stay where you are, I’ll come to you.”

It took nine minutes for Crowley to arrive at Aziraphale’s bookshop. In that time, Aziraphale steeled himself for _the_ conversation. He had just admitted to Crowley that he had actually wanted him to kiss him. Now Crowley was on his way over to the bookshop, possibly hoping that by the time he left that he and Aziraphale would be officially ‘involved’. When he arrived, Crowley knocked gently on the door, and Aziraphale leapt up from the sofa in the back room to let him in.

Crowley shuffled inside, his lips turned down into a weary frown, staring at his feet.

“Crowley, I’m so sorry. Please may I hug you?” Crowley looked up and nodded, and Aziraphale stepped forward to wrap his arms gently around him. After a few seconds, Crowley tentatively placed his hands on Aziraphale’s back. “It’s going to be ok, we just need to talk. I need to talk to you about something.”

Aziraphale stepped back from Crowley and headed for the back room. He could hear Crowley’s shuffling footsteps behind him. Aziraphale sat on one side of the sofa, and Crowley sat on the other, trying to stifle a yawn.

“I’m so tired,” Crowley mumbled.

“It is getting late, I’m sorry I didn’t contact you sooner.” Crowley rubbed his hand across his forehead and leaned back against the sofa.

“Don’t be sorry. I was so happy you contacted me at all.”

“Crowley, you _must_ forgive yourself for what happened. Everyone is allowed to make mistakes. Besides, if it’s still something you wanted to do, I would very much like...” Aziraphale began, and Crowley’s head snapped up, gazing at him with parted lips. “But first I need to talk to you about something that might make you change your mind, and if it does, I understand completely, all right?”

“All right,” Crowley mumbled, his eyebrows knitting together.

“I’m _very_ attracted to you, Crowley, as I’m sure you can tell. I care about you immensely, and I love spending time with you, and talking to you, and I enjoy it when you touch me, but, Crowley... you need to know, I’m not _sexually_ attracted to you. To anyone. Ever. And I know technically I could still... but I don’t want to, I don't want that.”

Crowley nodded and continued watching him as if he was waiting for him to get to the point. Aziraphale watched him in return, waiting for a reaction, images of Gabriel once again invading his mind.

“All right,” Crowley eventually murmured softly. Aziraphale furrowed his brow. “Do you want to be with me?”

“I don’t understand. You’re not saying you still want to be with me? After that?”

“It’s not a huge surprise, Aziraphale, you’ve never given me any indication that you were interested in me that way. It’s something I’ve got used to looking for. It’s not something I want either.”

“What?” Aziraphale managed to choke out, his mouth hanging open as he tried to think of something else to say.

“Earlier, before I did anything, I wanted to make sure we were on the same page. I _did_ have the ace flag painted on my nails.”

“There’s an asexual flag?” Aziraphale questioned, glancing down at Crowley’s nails. He had removed the nail varnish he’d been wearing earlier that day. Crowley rubbed his hands over his face and his head flopped down, but some of the tension seemed to drain away from his shoulders. “I’m sorry, I’m hopeless. I’m so out of touch with everything. I spent my entire youth convinced there was no one else in the world like me.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling. Being a teenager in the eighties was fun, wasn’t it?” Crowley rolled his eyes. “And you’re not hopeless. I should have just talked to you, I’m sorry.”

“I think we can both agree we should probably have had this conversation sooner,” Aziraphale said bashfully, managing a small, sad smile, which Crowley returned.

“So how is it for you? You said you never ever...?”

“Well, it’s... I’ve... Erm...” Aziraphale felt the colour rise in his cheeks. “Ok, well, before I got my bookshop I had this horrendous corporate job that I hated, and every few months they’d send me to head office for a training exercise.”

“Ok...”

“We’d had all these budget cuts, so they insisted on sending me on the cheapest possible train straight after work, so there was never any time for dinner, and I’d have to wait an hour between trains at this station where almost everything was closed by then, except for this one little kiosk that sold sandwiches.”

“Right...”

“I don’t know if it was the time of day or what but these sandwiches were always somehow floppy and stale at the same time, but I was hungry, so I ate them, and then I wasn’t hungry anymore, but I can’t say I really enjoyed eating them and I certainly wouldn’t _go out of my way_ to buy one! Oh, and I _definitely_ wouldn’t share one with someone else! I can’t even imagine looking at someone and thinking, do you know what, I really want to take them to that kiosk so we can share one of those sandwiches,” Aziraphale finished, his face twitching. “Anyway, it’s like that. Did that even make sense?”

“Yes, Aziraphale, that made sense. I understand.”

“Is it the same for you?”

“Not exactly. I wouldn’t go out of my way for the sandwiches either but when I’ve had them they’ve sometimes been quite nice. But I’m very fussy with how much of a sandwich I’ll eat, I’m only prepared to have a little bit, and never anything with mayonnaise on it.”

“I think you might have lost me a bit there. Maybe we should... actually... talk about this?”

Crowley laughed softly. “Probably.”

“So you’ve had sex?”

“I’ve had a few relationships where I’d occasionally touch him in a sexual way and vice versa, just a bit, no bodily fluids involved,” Crowley grimaced. “I don’t even like kissing unless it’s... well... you know.”

“Oh, yes me too, definitely.”

“Physically, it can be quite pleasant sometimes when I’ve really cared about someone, but to be honest it can feel pretty strange, agreeing to go and get a sandwich with someone and they’re getting excited about it before you even get to the front of the queue, and then they’re eating it like it’s most delicious thing in the whole world and you’re just not really bothered by it.”

“And yet it seems like everyone else spends so much time thinking about the sandwiches, and yet there’s these other shops next to the kiosk that sell these lovely things that I would love to share with someone, but I guess it’s always seemed like someone would only be willing to take me in there if I agreed to regularly visit the sandwich kiosk afterwards.”

Crowley laughed. “I understand. Hey, do you want to talk about what happened in 2004?”

“Oh, well I’m afraid that will be why I panicked earlier... last time I tried having a conversation like this it didn’t end well. I suppose that’s why I put it off, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. Did someone want to share a sandwich with you?”

“Yes. It’s only happened once.”

“What did you say?”

“Well, this is pretty embarrassing now but I suggested that if we ever got married, well, this was fifteen years ago so... anyway, I suggested we might consider serving the sandwiches at the wedding. Well not _serving_. Not _at_. That maybe we could go out for sandwiches after. Oh, you know...” Aziraphale chuckled, and expected to see Crowley doing the same, but his eyes were narrowed and studying him closely.

“How did they take your suggestion?”

“Not well. He was hungry.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“Oh, no... Not physically anyway. He just told me to leave, and that no one would ever want to be with me enough to make that kind of sacrifice, and that I was nothing special.”

“Oh, angel... was that what you were thinking about when I was talking about making sacrifices?”

Aziraphale nodded.

“But you wouldn’t have wanted to do that after you got married, would you?”

“No, I wouldn’t. I was rather relieved in the end. I’d just thought that if someone loved me enough to want to marry me, then surely I could do anything to make them happy.”

“Someone who loved you that much wouldn’t want you to do something you weren’t comfortable with just to make them happy.”

“I know, I’ve since thought as much. Thank you, Crowley.”

They sat silently for a moment, smiling softly at each other, fighting against their fatigue.

“So, do you want to...” Crowley began, apparently searching for the right words. “Upgrade our bubble?”

“I want to be with you, Crowley, more than anything, if you’ll have me.”

“There is nothing I’d like more.” After what had happened earlier, Crowley still seemed hesitant to move closer to Aziraphale, so he shuffled over to him on the sofa and rested his head on his shoulder. Crowley lifted his arm to let him settle himself closer, and placed it on his shoulder. After a few minutes, Crowley started yawning again.

“Would you like to sleep here? I’ve got lots of spare blankets.” Crowley smiled sleepily and nodded. Aziraphale got up and retrieved a sheet, several blankets and a couple of pillows. When he returned, Crowley had moved over to the armchair to give him space to create the makeshift bed.

“Tuck me in?” Crowley murmured, and there was a hint of the usual twinkle in his eyes.

“Go on then,” Aziraphale gave him a fond smile as Crowley crawled under the blankets and fluffed up the pillows until they were comfortable, settling his head down on to them. Aziraphale perched on the edge of the sofa, pulled the blankets up and brushed Crowley’s hair back away from his eyes. “We can talk more tomorrow. Goodnight, Crowley.”

“Goodnight, angel,” Crowley sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY they have learnt to use actual WORDS! (Somewhat, anyway)
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading this and being so supportive! (I am having a moment here!) Current situation is just making everything so much harder I think... I promise you lots of lovely fluff in the last chapter to help us all forget about our worries!!! <3


	17. Cocoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale recreate one of Crowley's video experiences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is their reward for being brave enough to have an actual conversation (will wonders never cease!). It's fluffier than Globe Aziraphale's hair, enjoy! <3

**Thursday 10 th September 2020**

“Oh my goodness I can’t believe I haven’t done this for... it must be forty years! These are absolutely scrumptious!” Aziraphale licked his lips, making sure to capture every last speck of toasted marshmallow. Crowley grinned.

“I _knew_ the way to your heart was through your stomach! Make the most of it; you know it’s going to rain soon.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

After spending so much time working outdoors, Crowley had become something of an expert in detecting when the weather was about to change. This time, however, his prediction was informed by information from weather-monitoring satellites. The two of them had checked the weather forecast, and specifically chosen this evening to build a campfire and toast marshmallows. Aziraphale wanted to recreate Crowley’s video, although he had declined Crowley’s offer of recounting spooky stories.

“This is such a beautiful place, Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed, pushing another marshmallow onto his stick and holding it over the fire. “You create wonderful videos but nothing quite compares to the real thing.”

They were sat on the ground in a clearing in Crowley’s secret woodland ( _“Yes, I have permission to be there and to light a fire”_ ), the trees swaying gently in the breeze, which was picking up with every passing minute.

“I’ll take you to that beach next week, if you’d like?”

“Oh, I’d love that!”

“It’s a date, but we’re not going _there_ when it’s raining, it’s absolutely in the middle of nowhere. Not easy to get to either, I hope you’re feeling up to a bit of a hike.”

“I’m sure it will be worth it.”

“I’ll make sure of it.”

Aziraphale scooped the slightly singed marshmallow off the stick and inelegantly squished the whole thing into his mouth. Not a moment too soon, as the fire started to hiss and crackle, and Aziraphale felt the raindrops striking his hair.

“Right on cue,” Crowley chuckled. “You’d better get inside the tent; I’ll sort the fire out.”

“Are you sure? I can help...”

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to recreate the video. Off you go,” Crowley insisted with a smile, encouraging Aziraphale away with a flick of his hand.

Aziraphale did as he was told and unzipped the tent, clambering inside and settling himself on Crowley’s second sleeping bag, the one that was definitely meant for him this time. The raindrops were striking the canvas in a soothing rhythm, which rapidly became louder and more insistent. A few minutes later, Crowley followed him into the tent, completely drenched and dripping onto the end of Aziraphale’s sleeping bag.

“Oh, look at you! I’m so sorry!”

“S’fine, I’m used to it. Pass me that bag, would you? I don’t want to proceed any further until I’ve dried off a bit or we’ll both end up sleeping in a puddle.” Aziraphale shuffled up until his outstretched hand could reach the strap of Crowley’s rucksack, which he hauled up and passed to him. Just as he had in the video, Crowley extracted a towel and started squeezing the moisture out of his hair.

“You look nice with wet hair. I mean, you always look nice. I love your hair, have I told you that?”

“You might have mentioned it,” Crowley grinned. “You want me to leave it down then? Even if it means you get attacked by my wet hair?”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Aziraphale replied, flashing Crowley his signature puppy dog eyes. Crowley licked his lips and shook his head, rubbing the towel vigorously over his hair and then running his fingers through in an attempt to untangle it.

Crowley unzipped his fleece jacket and threw it into the corner of the tent, along with the towel, and settled himself down on his own sleeping bag, sitting and facing Aziraphale.

“Well, I think we’re in here for the night.”

“What a terrible shame.” Aziraphale tried to feign disappointment, but failed completely to keep a straight face. He had been looking forward to being with Crowley in the tent since he had first agreed to bring him here. “You must be cold after getting caught in the rain like that?”

That earned him one of Crowley’s adorable little laughs.

“Well, since it _is_ your fault, you’d be very welcome to try to do something about it. If you want to.”

Aziraphale nodded and opened his arms out wide, and Crowley shuffled forward on his knees until he was close enough to wrap his arms around him. He held Crowley tightly against his body, trying to squeeze some warmth into him. Crowley rested his chin on Aziraphale’s shoulder and sighed contentedly.

“Better?”

“Much. You feel so warm,” Crowley murmured, rubbing his hands up and down over Aziraphale’s back.

“Well, someone kindly let me get into the tent before the worst of the rain started.” Aziraphale could feel Crowley’s breath on his neck as he chuckled softly.

“You’re welcome.”

Crowley pulled back from their hug and stretched himself out over his sleeping bag, linking his fingers together and bringing them up under his head as he lay back and looked up at the top of the tent. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

“It’s so relaxing isn’t it? Listening to the rain fall on the tent? That’s why I made that video.”

“I knew you’d planned for it to rain when you recorded that!”

“Hmmm... you weren’t supposed to be able to tell, but yeah, I tend to plan everything. Too much, sometimes.”

“Did you plan anything else for us to do this evening?”

“No,” Crowley replied softly. “We can do anything you want to do.”

“I want to listen to the rain.”

“All right, angel.”

“Do you mind if I get changed for bed?”

“Of course not. I should probably do the same, my jeans are soaked.”

They both turned towards opposite sides of the tent to give each other privacy. Aziraphale unzipped his bag and pulled out his favourite tartan pyjamas, changing into them as quickly as he could. Crowley had advised him that although the days were still warm it would be cold in the tent in the night, so he’d also brought a big woolly jumper to put over his pyjama shirt later. He didn’t put it on just yet, hoping for more hugs with Crowley and wanting to feel his body against his. Still, he pulled the jumper out of his bag and lay in beside him so that Crowley would know he had heeded his advice.

Without turning back towards Crowley, Aziraphale climbed into his sleeping bag and rested his head on the pillow. The rain had eased up slightly, pattering pleasantly on the canvas. It was still early, only just starting to get dark, but Aziraphale snuggled deeper into the sleeping bag and felt as though he was cocooned: warm, protected and safe.

“Can I roll over now, Crowley?”

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

Crowley was still lying on top of his sleeping bag, but had changed into soft tracksuit bottoms and a loose-fitting grey T shirt. He also had a fleecy jumper bundled up beside him. His hair had started to dry a little more, the waves forming themselves back into tighter curls.

“You look amazing,” Aziraphale breathed. Crowley looked himself over and shook his head, but the corners of his mouth were twitching into a smile. “You do. You look so comfy and snugly.”

“Shame there’s no room for me in that sleeping bag of yours, then,” Crowley teased. He was right; it was an exceptionally snug fit, which should at least help him to keep warm later.

“Well, you say that, but... I was wondering whether you would... erm... want to... I mean, could we zip the two sleeping bags together? Make one big one?”

“I’m sure we could figure that out, yes,” Crowley grinned and leaned over to unzip Aziraphale’s sleeping bag, folding back the top of it. “Oh wow, look at you... you’re _gorgeous_.” Aziraphale pressed his palms to his cheeks and shook his head. “Oh yes you are. I am so determined to figure out how to do this now.”

Aziraphale scooted out of his sleeping bag to give Crowley more freedom to manoeuvre it. Crowley unzipped his own sleeping bag and after a little bit of struggling to get the two of them lined up how he wanted them, he managed to zip them together. Aziraphale’s heart quickened and he beamed at Crowley.

“You’re a genius.”

“Oh, stop it. Get back in, don’t want you getting cold.”

“Then you’d have to warm _me_ up.”

“I’m planning to do that anyway, get in.”

Aziraphale shuffled down into the sleeping bag, much more easily now that it was twice the size, and Crowley followed shortly after. They both pulled their pillows closer together, and rolled onto their sides to face each other.

“Hey,” Crowley whispered.

“Hey.”

“May I touch you?”

Aziraphale smiled and nodded, his eyes fluttering closed when Crowley started stroking his shoulder.

“I loved waking up in the woods with you doing this,” Aziraphale sighed.

“I loved the way you looked at me when you woke up with me doing this. The way you smiled at me, you looked so... content. I don’t think I’d ever felt quite the way you made me feel then.”

Aziraphale shuffled closer to Crowley. “May I touch you too?”

“Of course. You can do anything you want, I think it’s unlikely you’d do something I didn’t like, but if you do I promise I’ll ask you to stop, all right?”

“Thank you, Crowley. Me too. I mean, I’d like you to feel free to do things you think I’d enjoy without asking me.”

“But you’ll tell me if I do something you don’t like?”

Aziraphale nodded, and Crowley pressed down gently on his shoulder, encouraging him to roll onto his back. Crowley brought his fingers to the top button of Aziraphale’s pyjama shirt, and looked up into Aziraphale’s eyes. He smiled and nodded to encourage Crowley to continue.

Crowley undid the top two buttons and then ran his fingertips over Aziraphale’s neck and collarbone. Aziraphale leaned into his touch and sighed. His whole body was filled with a warm glow.

“I’ll never forget when I saw you lying on that blanket after our picnic, and you’d taken your bow tie off and rolled up your sleeves, and you looked so comfortable and relaxed, I just wanted to hold you in my arms and never let you go.”

“I’m not going anywhere, my dear. You can hold me if you want to.”

They shuffled closer together, closing the distance between them, each wrapping their arms around the other. They stayed like that for a while, the light slowly fading from the tent, until Aziraphale pulled back slightly to plant a soft kiss on Crowley’s lips and run his fingers through Crowley’s (very slightly damp) hair.

“How are you real?” Aziraphale whispered. “I feel like I imagined you and now here you are.”

“Oh, angel,” Crowley murmured, leaning forward to kiss Aziraphale affectionately on the cheek as he tenderly ran his fingers up and down his arm.

Aziraphale was struck by the realisation that he was the happiest he had ever been, but felt only the quickest flicker of anxiety at the memory that the last time he had felt this way, it had been just before everything had come crashing down. What had happened in the past was irrelevant, what he was experiencing now with Crowley couldn’t have been more different. He thought about the list of questions he’d had for Crowley, the only one remaining being question 9, ‘ _Why am I like this?_ ’. He realised that it didn’t matter anymore, because he had someone lying beside him who would accept him and support him exactly the way he was.

“Is there anything you’d like me to do for you, angel?”

“There is one thing. Something I’ve thought about. Could I roll over and face the side of the tent, and you wrap your arms around me?”

“That sounds perfect.”

Aziraphale rolled over onto his other side and Crowley shuffled up right behind him, draping his arm over Aziraphale’s chest and rubbing his hand up and down his arm. At the right moment, Aziraphale dipped his head and kissed the back of Crowley’s hand.

“You feel incredible, angel. You’re so soft and warm.”

“You feel good too. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve dreamed about this. Thank you so much for everything.”

“My pleasure.”

Aziraphale snuggled back against Crowley, prompting him to squeeze Aziraphale’s arm a little tighter and place a kiss on the back of his neck. They stayed like that until well after the sun had set, listening to the rain and the sound of each other’s breathing.

Aziraphale may have been prepared to go to hell and back for Crowley, but this... this was heaven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again SO MUCH to everyone who has read this story and for leaving kudos/comments, I appreciate them all so much! I will make sure I reply to your comments (sorry if I miss any!) but I thought I'd better finish writing this first so we could all have some extra fluffy fluff. Writing this fic has been a bit of an emotional rollercoaster, thank you so much for all your support along the way. These are difficult times, I think we all need to be kind to ourselves and take solace in this wonderful fandom full of lovely people. <3


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